Returning to Maine

June 2005 – The rain beat a staccato rhythm on the roof of my old Nissan Maxima as mom and I drove the last few miles to my first “real world” home after college. It rained as we drove her to the airport the next day. It rained as I unpacked the last of my things three days later. The rain stayed for two more weeks after that. Welcome to Maine, it said.

It wasn’t that I hated Maine, I just didn’t have a very happy life there. I was in such “real world” shock that I spent too much time missing college and not enough time making friends. So to me, the rain that stuck around for the first 2 weeks of my post-grad life in Maine really summed up my entire time there, despite the moments of fun we had at Profenno’s getting drunk and stumbling home, at Vinny T’s eating roasted garlic on bread, or at various firefighter functions. Kind of sad, really, that the gloomy parts are what I remember the most.

May 2009 – Appropriately, as Myque and I pulled off Rte 1 onto Main Street in Westbrook, it was just beginning to drizzle. The sky was gray. We’d had a great time driving down, looking at all the crazy antique stores along the road, and getting hungrier by the minute. But now that I pulled into town, into the rainclouds that I remembered so well, and I became a bit gloomy.

I didn’t know how I would react four years, three houses, two states and one marriage later. Especially since I was taking someone who had absolutely nothing to do with Maine the first time. So when I rolled through town, seemingly on auto-pilot, it surprised me that stories just started pouring out of my mouth faster than the rain. Here’s our first apartment, I wonder if the family still lives there. Here’s the CVS where we used to walk to late at night for candy. Here’s the pub. Here’s the falls. Up there is where our friends lived. Here’s my old office and here’s the new building where they moved right after we left. Patient, wonderful Myque listened with honest interest. By the time we reached the Oldport, it wasn’t a place I had once lived anymore – it was a new adventure.

After eating lobster rolls (something I’d never done when I lived there) and wandering around knick-knack shops for a few hours, we drove to the Portland Headlight on Cape Elizabeth (where I’d never gone when I lived there). It was beautiful walking on the sea cliffs, climbing down to the rocky shores, and taking pictures. I wondered why I had not been here before, but then I wondered if I would have appreciated it this way.

Driving back we sang at the top of our lungs and I decided that I was okay with going back to Portland again with someone else who would see it all as new. At the same time, I was content if I never did have the opportunity to go back. I think I made my peace with Maine. And, as the sunshine decided to come out (and stayed out for the rest of the day) while MyQue and I feasted on beer, fried clams and lobster, I think it made its peace with me, too.