driving south, flying north.

My last morning in Maine glowed in golden sunlight, the world renewed and glistening from days of torrential rain.  There was little time but one last batch of blueberry pancakes would be made; one last cup of tea; one last meander to the bog with the grass underfoot all dewy and warm.  With that, I moved out of the Marshall House, leaving nothing but a pile of bedlinen and a few pictures that decorated the wall by my bed.  Katie’s side of the room lay untouched, the constant presence of her things so intertwined with my existence there that I felt a sense of home even when all my things were gone.  We met at a cafe in Camden for a last cup of coffee – Spencer, Annelise, Katie and I.  Again I was overwhelmed with affection for these people, these genuine, kind, creative, hilarious people full of talent and warmth and promise.  Our goodbyes were full of so much love and appreciation that it did not even need to be sad, because we knew, our paths would cross again.

Spencer drove me South, away from the coastal towns and across the border to New Hampshire. For all the constant traveling I generally maintain in my life, it was odd to realize so suddenly that I had not left Maine all summer – nor had any desire to do so.  As we neared Boston and I began to recognize where I was – signs to Providence appearing along the roadside – I had the surreal feeling of traversing worlds, moving from this dreamy summer life into the reality of the school year, but just before reaching it, boarding a plane and escaping into the evening sky.

I now write to you from Alaska, rain trickling outside the window and the whole landscape grey and vast beyond.  Weather permitting, we leave for the Arctic this morning.

Before I go, here are some Instagram photos of the past weeks, every day precious and beautiful and summer itself.

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A polaroid for Cig Harvey. 

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And now, heading North.

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