The Way Life Should Be

I cannot claim to be a well traveled individual, not even close. In my life I've only ever been inside the continental United States, and other than being born in California and spending the first year and half in living near Los Angeles, most of that travel has been glued to the eastern seaboard. I've had chances to live in Virginia, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania and South Carolina, and those chances were left to the wayside for the most part. There's really only one reason for that.

I love this state.

Winters are long and brutal. Summers last only a few months, sometimes less. Tourism makes it nearly impossible to get around as a local during the weeks where the sky seems to open up and let in the sun so we can warm our cold bones. Maine also has it's share of economic problems, severe addiction issues, and one hell of an embarrassment for a Governor. I get it, I understand why not many people would want to stay here after leaf peeping season has passed and the reality of a New England winter set in, I'm just not one of those people. I'm a Mainer, through and through.

It's part of what has allowed me to open up and create art, is living in this peaceful place. There isn't a lot of background noise, and unless you happen to be traveling through Lewiston, you're surrounded by beauty, in the smallest and largest measurements. As a child on road trips with my family to and from Virginia, I could always tell we were close to home when the sky felt nearer and the air smelled like salt water. The chill in the air welcomed me back after one or two weeks in the sweltering heat or stuck inside glued to the front of the air conditioner. I wanted the sharp sting of cold to wake me back up and remind me I was where I belong.

The winters will still be brutal, the summers will continue to only last a few months, and tourism is only going to increase, but I'm stuck to this state like a barnacle, and I don't mind one bit.