Back to the Wonk

Went up to Maine last week for a few days to breathe fresh air, spot birds, spend some time with my friend Jill, and, to visit Chewonki, after almost eight years of absence. In 1998, a year that is marked in my memory as one of the hardest I have ever had, I escaped to the Maine Coast to think, grieve, and listen to the sounds of lapping waves, and the wind moving through the canopy.

We hiked here, to this point along the Chewonki peninsula, and sat for a little while thinking about how very young we were when we fell in love with nature and our little community in the middle of the woods.

It's tough to explain what the state of Maine means to me, but I was happiest this summer when I was there. There is something lovely about escaping the crush of New York City, of wondering how I spend so much of my time worrying that I've not done enough with my life to be [almost] 25, and of laughing at the version of myself that believes that any of that is true. I ate well, I slept well, I swam and sunned and realized that I take myself too seriously sometimes.

Oh, and lobster. I just love lobster.