I’m still in civilization, or at least, the City, but in 48 hours I’ll be in Maine, picking up my rental car and getting ready for the drive north to Bar Harbor. Pre-departure, I’m always sensitive to how ridiculously crowded it is here and I’m not even in NYC, I am in the much saner metropolis of Chicago. It took me 40 minutes to travel 11 miles to downtown. I parked on level five of a parking structure with ninety cars on each level; I waited for an elevator with fifty people, got on an elevator with twenty five people, walked into a courtroom with a 100 lawyers representing 200 clients, some of whom were also in the courtroom. I got a future court date five weeks in advance.
There are lots of people in the street; it doesn’t approach the number of people in Times Square at 11:00 pm, but it’s a lot. I always note when I return home from Maine that in the stretch from the gate to the baggage counter, I see more people than I have the entire week I’ve spent in Maine. This weekend’s different because I will be running with 1200 other people and since they will all probably pass me, I will see about the same amount of people in both places.
The good part of being here is that I had the choice of two Starbucks within a block of each other. And they are starting the civic decoration for Halloween: they poured orange dye in the water fountain in front of the courthouse and it now spews sprays of orange water. Unnerving but fun. I ran into a few friends and exchanged pleasantries with them and my wi-fi right now is free. There are conveniences within walking distance: food, books, clothes, music, almost anything you want really is within reach.
Except, open spaces, clean air, mountains, woods, ocean, solitude, supper from the sea, stars at night, the sound of the loon. I often wonder if I love Maine so much because I’m on vacation when I’m there or just because it’s there. Although, I have done work there: filing, client calls, drafting. And I still liked being there even though I was working. So I’m gonna go with loving Maine.
Catt Scratches 
I’ve realized that what I like about places that I go are the many assets along with others that you eloquently enumerated above Jill. But once retired and having some perspectives changed, I’ve come to the conclusion that home truly is where the heart is. When I go to Cancun, my resort greets me with “Welcome Home”. I am home there, because I am always with and surrounded by the people whom I love most in this world. With or without conveinence, life takes on a more urgent perspective of knowing who and what is truly important in your life. We complete tasks while working on a daily basis. Once we retire, we complete tasks when and how we choose. The moments spent looking at a treetop seem longer now. The adoration I have for my wife and children is deeper now. The reason to live has become more preeminent and life is urgent; not in a sense of less time or finality, but in a sense of understanding and reveling. The realization of how much time was spent wasting over issues irrelevent to our true nature and well being creeps up and looks us in the face. How does one recapture the time to re-look or re-visit people, places and things? You don’t. You just continue.
Enjoy all that there is to take in. The journey is the “Song in the Key of Life”. Comfortably doing that which we wish to do and enjoying the scenery is paramount to existence. A difficult lesson learned becomes a joyous moment in past perspective. And yes Maine is loving, as is Illinois, New York, The Carolina’s and all the other wondeful places that you called home during your life. Whether it was for a minute or a lifetime, it was.
By: steelwheelsny on October 10, 2012
at 9:15 am