I fell in love with the coast of Maine a long, long time ago. As a second generation Southern Californian, born and raised in the desert, I was absolutely stunned by the wildness and beauty of the rocky coast the first time I saw it. We had just graduated from college with theater degrees and, after a lot of discussion and advice, we decided that Boston was the place we wanted to start our real world lives. We packed up the VW bus with everything we owned, including Blanche the dog and Missy the cat, and set off across country via the northern route, headed for a good visit with hub’s parents, who summered on the coast of Maine. After days and days on the road, staying in a series of Motel 6 (some of which were really $6 a night back in those dark ages) and other cheap motels, past so much corn and then so many people stuffed into small spaces, finally arriving in Maine. And BAM…my first look out the front window of the house…BAM! I was in love, in lust, transformed.
The years went by. We got jobs, had kids, moved down and then back up the East Coast, pursuing hub’s career dreams, and spent summer vacations in Maine. We cultivated our love of Maine within our children and love that, even now they are grown-ups with families of their own, they choose to spend time in the summer to come back. Every time we packed up to leave “heaven” for our normal, regular, not Midcoast Maine home, we would look at each other and ask “why are we leaving?”
Then my in-laws’ health declined…my mum-in-law was in the last days of her fight against breast cancer and we were commuting on a regular basis the 4+ hours from Massachusetts to Maine. We were able to be here for her last days in hospice and the days after her death, but then had to head back to Massachusetts to resume our “normal” lives. Unfortunately, this meant leaving my then 96yo dad-in-law alone in his assisted living apartment…we had arranged for PALS to provide him additional daily assistance, but our worry levels skyrocketed and life became unbearably stressful. So…
I quit my job, hub arranged some changes to his job, we sold our house and moved to my in-laws’ house on the water. I know that sounds precipitous, and it was! This all happened in the space of three months, no time to even breathe…downsize from a 5br house to a furnished 2 room house…say goodbye to the community theater group that had been my life, my breath for over 15 years…one more move (was that move number 18? 19?)…so many changes in so little time. And, for the first 3 weeks of our new life, I lived alone (yes, hub’s job took him to Canada for those first weeks) with no internet, no TV, a house full of boxes and nowhere to empty them (the down-side of moving into a fully furnished house)…oh, and my smartphone.
In those first few days, I started taking a photo or two every day, to share by phone with my gallivanting husband and my concerned children (Mom is alone in the middle of the woods in a new town, starting out a new life, how will she survive?). As days went by and my creative juices hungered for an outlet, something my daughter said clicked in and I decided that my husband was not the only one who might enjoy a daily snapshot of my new surroundings. My photo blog was born, has stutter-stepped into its current iteration, and will continue to grow. I love that other people have the chance to see the beauty that I see every day…but more than anything, I do it for myself. It satisfies the same part of my soul that was nurtured by singing, by acting, by directing, by managing a theater group, by enjoying a vibrant theater community as part of EMACT…so, while I do it in an abundance of love, I mostly do it for me.
And that’s why I take photos of the same things every day and post them for the world to enjoy!