I was in Maine yesterday. Today I’m in Louisiana. The change was and is disorienting. I walked into a plane. Got a seat. I sat there for four hours. I got up. I walked out of the plane and then out of the airport into another culture, another weather system, another time zone, another way of talking, different flora and fauna, food, history, another way of life.
Maine is a favorite of mine. Its beauty is reflected in your prose.
Wonderful, Richard. As I get ready to depart for another well-loved place in the world (my Italian hideout in its equally splendid isolation, I always end up asking myself why? But for years I’ve divided my time between two of the most beautiful places in the world and am so fortunate still not to have to choose between one or the other.
Beautiful! You describe so well the wrenching disorientation of leaving a beloved place. Reminds me of the trip I took with my boyfriend in the 70s. We canoed down the west branch of the Penobscot River (Thoreau territory). For three days all we saw were moose and birds in an unsullied land and waterscape that remains indelible in my heart and memory. We finished our journey at the cabin of Maine guides George and Marilyn Dwelley, who treated my severe sunburn with tincture of green soap and fed us an abundant dinner and breakfast with homemade bread, pancakes, and pie. I cried on the way back to NYC. But guess what? I’m going to visit a friend in Brunswick ME next weekend.
I simply must go....how about next year?
"I guess life is made up of goodbyes." What a great line!! Sounds like the closing line to a classic novel. Made me think of Hemingway, especially A Farewell to Arms." Tip of the hat to you.