A sense of place

I took an entire writing course about that topic in college, but don't think I appreciated many of the assignments until years later after I'd graduated and started a family of my own. Now every time I return to Rodman, N.Y., I'm overwhelmed with memories and amazed at how visceral things seem to me -- the stone wall in front of the old Woolworth's house, the trees in the backyard (once in danger of being run over by my lawnmower, now 50' tall with a canopy that blocks out the sun), even the cracks in the sidewalk. The one thing that's different?  Well.