I spent the past week in Southern California, basking in the sun, seeing old friends, and having a last hurrah before hunkering down for another Maine winter.
Ok, sure, winter isn't here yet, but it was 25 degrees at my house this morning and the flowers are all now dead. In fact, the window boxes and hanging plants look like something from a horror movie, with gooey black stems, hanging limp over the sides. Somehow my husband and kids didn't notice them while I was gone. Heck, I might as well leave them out for Halloween.
I had dinner with my friends, Connie and Bob, while in California. They live one block from the beach. ONE BLOCK. We walked outside, crossed a street, and we were there. It was in the upper 60s after dark, and they mentioned that it was a little chilly. I had to laugh. Then I told them stories about how we have to shovel paths to our firewood after each storm, and how we have to start a new fire in the wood stove each morning. Bob was aghast and wondered how people survive here. We talked about all this while looking out their opened doors at bougainvilleas and countless other flowers.
Ok, so the ugly truth is, I really didn't want to come home.
I flew first to Washington, D.C. to catch my flight to Portland. As I was looking for the gate, I first saw the people. Mainers. I knew that had to be my gate and I was right.
I won't try to explain how I knew. The fact that everyone was carrying a jacket and that most of the men had beards MIGHT have had something to do with it, but either way, I knew I was going home.
And I'm very glad to be back. Sure, I'd trade 25 degrees and dead leaves for 60s and palm trees, but this is still home and I love it here.
Copyright © 2008 - Paulla Estes