For all the years I was away from Provincetown, one vision came to me whenever I thought of the place. No doubt everyone leaves here with memories and impressions, each unique to that person. For me, it’s a windless, fog-bound night, and I am standing on Commercial St, in front of White Wind Guest House at the corner of Winthrop St. I have no idea why my vision is always in this location. Nothing in particular ever happened to me there, while plenty happened in many other places around town. Still, it’s always the same, and there is always the fog horn. The soft call floats over the harbor to me through the cottony air, and I can feel the healing peace of Provincetown, even when I’m far away.  I don’t leave here so much anymore, and many foggy nights have found me listening for that soothing voice as I stand cloaked in damp night air, looking up at the halo around a blurry moon. To be able to do this until the end of my life is one of my most worthy goals, I think