There's no place like home, and when home is a Norman Rockwell-ian town on the Eastern Seaboard named after a berry, the longing can be surprisingly strong. The photos of stately, colonial homes, tree-lined streets and Brainerd Lake are a perfect anecdote for homesickness. And one day, crazy as home prices are, John and I dream about moving back to Cranbury ourselves. One of those little colonials on Main Street, hardly bigger than most two-bedroom apartments in San Francisco, would be the perfect place to host a big family Thanksgiving, throw a festive Christmas party and enjoy the season's first snow.
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