one morning in maine

i imagine this might not be the only post with this title. i find it amusing, and heartening, that i can say that on most mornings i find myself in maine. even with one foot over the border… it does my heart a world of good. somehow i meet the spirits of those who came before me here. and we walk together as family through the woods and onto the city streets. and i am finding that wherever i am these days, i am never alone.

portland holds a soft place in my heart. yes, the sights and sounds and smells. but it’s more than that. it’s the longing come true. it’s the streets my mother walked upon. it’s the history of family, the Model T’s parked and smiling infront of city hall. it’s the view from the dunes, the 8mm film reels that jump and hop in and out of time.

on this particular morning i stood with a friend, photowalked with cameras in hand, feet on brick, eyes smiling. mostly i am giddy to be here. to be everywhere. mostly i feel lucky. and it seems it might take quite awhile for me not to continue walking around with a goofy grin, just happy to be here, happy to be home. city and country. mountains and sea. pines and salt.

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