Last night I watched a re-run of No Reservations, the Maine episode, and though it was kinda boring and I don’t think it hit all the right spots and Bourdain was kind of awkward in it a lot of the time, it made me three things. 1. Miss home 2. Get pumped that I am going there in 24 hours! 3. Become overwhelmed with a sense of pride that I sometimes lose touch of.
So. As I gear up to welcome myself back home to the Vacationland, I thought I’d post my thoughts about being a girl from Maine.
They say Maine women aren’t fancy. We’re not. We’re also not complicated. What we are is this. We are loyal and thick skinned and tough as nails. We are hard working and we are smart. We appreciate quality, not quantity and we pick the funny ones, that ones that will make good husbands and even better fathers, the best friends. We are funny and dry and witty and if you don’t understand our humor, we won’t explain it to you. Our eyes can tell you a lifetime full of stories, and each set will. We are strong and we are often quiet (some of us) and we are simple in a way that we value those people that we have now and the trinkets and memories of those we have no longer, but labels and things that you can attach a price have no place in our lives.
We need the ocean because it cleanses us. We need the forest because it brings peace to us and we need the mountains because they challenge us. We need long winters filled with ice and snow because it reminds us to be grateful. We need the springs filled with mud and rain rain rain because it replenishes and hydrates and brings hope. We need the sunshine and cool breeze and the smell of sun and sand on the coast because it reminds us of young love and kissing on beaches under the moonlight during nights that never end. And we need the fall, the clean and crisp and vibrant fall to bring fresh starts with clear minds and open hearts.
We know what a loon sounds like on a lake at sunrise. We know how to paddle a canoe. We’ve collected pine cones and lightning bugs and skipping rocks and sea shells and dead crabs and acorns and milkweed silk by the basket. We’ve built forts and jumped off rope swings. We throw footballs and split wood. We know secret remedies for mosquito bites and skinned knees and broken hearts, though the broken heart thing is easy. Every girl from Maine knows that a walk in the fresh air and a lobster roll is the best start to forgetting a stupid boy.
We are quirky and awkward and tomboyish and imperfect. I am no exception to any of this, but I’m proud of it all.
And so, this girl is ready to go back to Maine for the month of October, where right now, she belongs.
Lastly, of course I am behind on Birthday Month goals. I hate to just toss out four day’s worth because I was too lazy to write one every day. Goddamnit that I forgot yesterday. Hmm.
Oct 2: Write letters this holiday season to the people I am grateful to have in my life. Last minute Christmas cards don’t count.
Oct 3: Make family albums from the past 10 years so when we all get old, fat or die in dramatic fashion, we’ll have books to remember each other by. Not morbid, just sensible.
Oct 4: Work on my insistence in being a selfish person. I am. No way around it. I do only what I want, when I want and it freaks me the fuck out of anyone tries to change me. It’s probably not as charming as I think it is to be so “independent”. But if compromise starts to be too much work, I might switch back to embracing my independent spirit. TBD.
Oct 5: Find my Dad’s family in Germany. Bonn, Germany. I’m here and the rathauses have town records like you wouldn’t believe. Considering most of the Smith family is gone and there are no boys left to carry the family name, I need a family history. I just don’t want us to disappear. That really scares me. Plus, it’s either that or continue tattooing myself, which could get out of control.
So there. More dramatics about Heather. I get this way every.blasted.time.i.hop.a.flight.home. Ugh.