How do you leave a place you love?
I always assumed that I would die in Burlington. Sometimes during idle moments I'd find myself daydreaming about my own funeral, running through a roster of possible guests: friends and neighbors, synagogue members, political allies and adversaries, colleagues from my work and my husband's. I wasn't so much being morbid - well, OK, maybe there was that, too - as I was expressing satisfaction at being so deeply rooted in this community; acknowledging how assuredly this place has become my home.