One Day Into Maine
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve carried a daydream in both pockets…one stitched with red rock and desert skies, the other with salty sea air and pine-scented coastline. I used to think my pull toward the Southwest and Maine came from pop culture. A neighbor once adorned her walls with Arizona’s warm hues, and TV shows like Dark Shadows (yes, it takes place in Maine…even if the famous Collinwood was based on a Connecticut home) painted New England as mysterious and untamed.
But the older I get…and the more life I've lived…the more I realize it’s something deeper. I believe I was uniquely made to crave wide-open spaces. The Southwest calls to the part of me that longs for sunlight and silence. Maine calls to the part of me that yearns for depth, mystery, and motion. One land is shaped by sand and sun, the other by stone and sea…but both feel sacred.
And now that I’m finally here, I can unequivocally say: Maine is the most breathtaking place I have ever laid eyes on. I’ve been blessed to see the rolling hills of Scotland, the volcanic cliffs of the Azores, the cerulean waters of Belize and Aruba. And yet, Maine eclipses them all. There is a quiet majesty here that leaves me in awe.
Yesterday, we visited Kennebunk and stopped at St. Anne’s Episcopal Church by the Sea. It was built in the 1800s with the very stones from the shore, and it has an outdoor sanctuary…rows of wooden pews facing the Atlantic. Sitting there, I was overwhelmed. Man built these pews upon the land God formed. The rocks that hold up the church were pulled from the very soil beneath us. And the ocean...the vast, eternal ocean stretches beyond it all. It reminded me of our role…not owners, but stewards. Not creators, but caretakers.
No wonder so many artists and writers have been stirred by Maine’s landscape. Rachel Carson, the famed naturalist who lived in Southport, once wrote:
“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.”
E.B. White, who lived on a saltwater farm in Brooklin, Maine, found peace in its rhythm:
“I would rather feel bad in Maine than feel good anywhere else.”
Even Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, born in Portland, captured its soul:
“My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.”
Now I understand what they meant.
I don’t know if I’m meant to live here, but I do know this…Maine is a place that gets into your bones. And one day in, I already feel the imprint.
