Dear Streets of Salem,
I love you. With all of my heart. The reasons are more than the years I’ve known you. I think you are misunderstood, and hold so much more than the wax museums and witch trials.
Your streets hold my love story. My history with a certain man. Your streets cradle countless beginnings in my life.
Your streets coddled us on a first date, six years ago today. Hands were nervously held for the first time. Silent smiles spread across two faces while passing your town common. Doors were held, smalls of a back touched gently, and feet stepped in unison.
Love was found on lazy Sunday morning strolls down Winter Street.
Our first apartment, together, was on one of your lesser known streets. A painted wooden porch overlooked your crumbling road, where the questionable folks in town lived, but to us it was perfect. Cheap, full of character, and perfect.
Our relationship was founded on your streets. Risks were taken. And on one November evening, my loves hand reached into his coat pocket and held out a small black, velvet covered jewelry box. On your streets he asked “should we make this official?”
On your streets I said yes.
And the rest is history.
Streets of Salem, you will forever hold a special place in my heart. Thank you.