The phone (camera) was forgotten in the car so mental snapshots were taken to remember the beautiful summer Maine day spent on Barred Island. Brilliant green moss covered forests which smelled of balsam and damp earth, squirrels chattering and making me think about my mighty dog hunter back in Wyoming, the air thick as only Maine air can be. Sam rode in the Bjorn on my front, cooing and ahhing at the enveloping woods, forests that spoke of gnome homes and fairy wings.
Mom, Dad, Sam and I hiked the one mile rooted trail out to the small island that sits off of Deer Isle. It is accessed only at low tide by a sandbar and has amazing views of the surrounding islands. We brought lunch, our bathing suits and the unhurried pace that a young child brings, a reality that I am learning to relish and recognize as so beneficial to all facets of life.
The taste of chicken sandwich on the tongue and the saltiness of the ocean in my hair, I left my parents and slumbering Sam and wandered around the small island, walking barefoot in order to feel the smooth granite rocks. Bright sunlight off of ocean water, the aching fog horn out at sea, the pink granite rocks sliding seductively into the water, waves crashing rhythmically and rapidly against the exposed side of the island, puffball clouds creating a uniform pattern across the blue sea, wild rose bushes, tidal pools exposing green seaweed, gnarly barnacles, and deep blue mussels, the chug-chug of a lobster boat making its way home, the warm wind, hot rock against my body, a moment of stillness to take in the peacefulness of the day and a half an hour to myself.
The beauty of Maine makes my heart ache. The story of the sea is etched in my bones and something awakens inside me every time I come home and pay witness to this watery land. It excites me that Sam will know the ocean, that he will turn over clumps of seaweed searching for crabs and take wonder in the spiral of a periwinkle. He will learn to swim and sail and walk across rocky shores with sure feet. What a gift to be able to share my childhood home with my own son, the history wrapping around us like a warm, woolen blanket.
It has been a wonderful trip to Maine. While I am excited to return to my other home, my mountain wonder, to my community and friends and loving husband and Olive, I will miss my parents and the daily trips to the ocean. The saltwater will wash away from hair, skin and clothing but definitely not from memory and from my deep heart.