Long Valley is like one of those quaint antique towns that you drive through saying, “one of these days, we should do a bed and breakfast there.” It’s one of those places you dream you could raise your kids, but you can’t grasp how people do it. Logic takes precedent and the overwhelming question is where do these people work?
I imagine if I were a sole attorney, my little office next to some antique shop called Mother Murphey’s, I’d be able to live in one of these place, but I don’t know if that is what I’m designed to do.
It’s so funny-I always thought of NJ like I think of the Bronx. Dirty crowded streets, the accent coming from the rough city life. So when I first heard from Ray about Long Valley, I kind of had to kick myself. I mean, I should know better. I mean I know how I feel whenever I go to another country and tell people that I live in Chicago and they respond: “Ooh Alcapone” and make machine gun noises.
But, Long Valley is different. Long Valley reminds me of every town that I love. It brings out the romantic and the dreamer in me, with its big trees and big houses plopped in perfectly. We went to this beautiful little church called Our Lady of the Mountain that suited the area. The best part of the trip was that every feeling that I had about Ray was made stronger or reaffirmed. I saw his schools, his Eagle Scout projects, his stomping grounds. His interaction with is family was what I needed to see to keep deepening our relationship and it was just how I expected it-perfect. He was perfect; his family was perfect and even the whether was perfect. Just like everything is in Edward Scissorhands Long Valley.