The day after Christmas of 2011, I got in my little blue Honda Fit (a color that "M" adored), equipped with snow tires, and headed to Northern New England. That's where "M" resided with her son and his family for two thirds of the year. My assignment? To spend a few days with "M" in her son's home, then drive her back on New Years' Eve to her daughter's residence in Lower New England. All in all, about a six hour drive each way.
I was happy to do it. It had been many years since I had driven along the shores of Northern New England, and something about the rocky coastline, dotted with the well-worn vessels of immensely hard-working and incredibly hearty lobster and cod fisherman, appealed to my soul.
As I got closer to the New England Coast, the sun began to disappear. The evidence of the "shortest days of the year" were obvious, as it was barely 4pm in the afternoon. Shortly afterwards, I began driving into a rural area that soon became pitch black. I don't recall ever seeing an area that was so oppressively dark. "What a great place to view stars!" I thought, trying to look at the positive. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, a little voice was answering, "Yeh... And a great place to get hopelessly lost!"
Nearing my destination, I felt a bit of relief, but also apprehension. I had no idea what the next few days would bring. After a few missed turns (well... maybe more than "a few"), I arrived at the home of "M"s son, located about twenty minutes inland from the coast. It was still very early in the evening, but I felt as though I had been driving in the darkness for days!
I was delighted to see "M" relaxing in a cozy chair by the fireplace, surrounded by some furry friends. This time around, instead of kitties, there were dogs. Three of them... one medium sized, highly active fellow and two larger, older, and much more mellow, brother and sister mutts. Arms outstretched, "M" gave me a warm welcome and said it was nice to see me again. I told her that I would be staying with her for a few days, after which we would drive down to her daughter's home together. "What fun!" she exclaimed.
I then presented "M" with her Christmas present, a small wooden sailboat that reminded me of the craft she used to sail as a young girl. Even though she was a pilot, our most recent visit together had largely involved the sea shores and sailboats, so it seemed like the perfect present. It was. "M" clapped her hands with joy, and said that it was an "absolutely wonderful" gift! Then she once again shared with me the story of her victorious race eight decades ago, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the firelight. How I loved to see her this way, warmly wrapped in a long-ago, yet so very current, memory in her mind.
Later on, "M"s son showed me to the very small, but cozy, bedroom I'd be staying in, which was just down the hall from "M"s room. This allowed me easy access to "M" during my stay. We were on the third floor of the quaint, colonial-styled home, and there were two stairways leading down to the main floor, one by my room, and one just outside of "M"s room. That was the route she usually took to the large living room, toasty fireplace, and food-filled kitchen.
Since I had arrived rather late the first day, it wasn't until the next afternoon that "M" and I had a chance to sit down in her magnificent bedroom. It was like a private suite, with its own bathroom and walk-in closet. It also was very bright and cheery, even during a long dark winter, thanks to skylights and large windows with ample bird feeders for those brave little birdies who lived through the harsh Northeastern winters. "M" and I sat at a small table near these windows, where she was able to eat her meals while enjoying the sight of her feathered friends, who showed up regularly for their own feedings. The cardinals, their beautiful red color distinguishing them from the white and grey background, were especially beautiful.
Sitting at the table that first afternoon, I was treated to one of the most enlightening experiences I have ever enjoyed with "M". Together, we had the opportunity to look through her treasured photo albums, thereby giving me valuable visual imagery to accompany the many stories she had told me about her flying days. There were quite a few albums, and a number of them were devoted strictly to the time she had spent teaching naval pilots during World War 2.
It was truly a privilege to share these memories with "M". The photos ranged in many shapes and sizes, and were all black and white. But what distinguished all of them was "M"s radiant smile, which stood out in every single shot. Often, she was surrounded by men, which was not unusual given the setting she was in. The photos showed "M" in a variety of settings, including sitting in the pilot's seat while tutoring a student, standing on an the airstrip surrounded by planes, and simply relaxing at the naval base with her peers. There were also some incredible aerial shots of the grounds below, taken directly from the cockpit. It was obvious that "M" was truly in her element as a flight instructor.
Another photo album, compiled of photos from a few years later, was of an entirely different nature, but just as fascinating. It contained images of "M"s honeymoon trip to The Woods. I had not yet been to this magical site. That experience was to unfold the following summer. But I finally had a frame of reference for the wonderful stories "M" had been sharing with me about her favorite times at the family camp. The impression I got from viewing these spectacular photos was even more than magical, and I could actually feel "M"s love for the Woods to life. The surroundings were pure and pristine, still untouched by modernization - no motorized water crafts at all times of the day and night (except for the Pickle and Mail Boats, of course). No streets lined with tourist traps in the nearby town. Just nature in all of its simplicity and splendor. "M" looked absolutely amazing in every photograph! Long dark hair surrounded her distinctive face, which was clearly recognizable whatever the era might be. I was struck by how stunningly natural she looked in her shorts and bathing suit top. A true beauty!
"M" seemed a bit embarrassed when I told her how pretty she was, then and now. She was always putting down her appearance by saying that she was "too tall and awkward looking." I told her that I felt the same way about photographs of myself, except that I appeared too short, but equally awkward looking! We laughed together as she told me some of the simple, yet surprisingly endearing, activities she and her husband engaged in on their the honeymoon trip - making a fleet of tiny boats from pieces of wood, fishing for the evening's dinner, bathing in the lake, and rowing in one of their many boats. They looked so comfortable together, and I pointed out that they looked like best friends. She nodded slowly, and with misty eyes, replied that they "were indeed." With that, we put the albums away, and shared some tea together, focusing on the birds outside the large windows.
The following afternoon, having perused most of the photo albums in "M"s closet, I ventured out on my own to see the Northern New England coast in the winter time. I had been to this area thirty years earlier when my Mom took me there as a teenager. It was right after my father had moved out of our house, and the trip was an attempt to heal from some very deep emotional wounds that had occurred during my growing up years. It was the beginning of a painful, yet profound, spiritual journey that I have been on ever since. I could certainly understand how memories from decades earlier could come rushing back as if they happened only yesterday, as they often did with "M", give or take several decades.
The surroundings left quite an impression on me, and remained close in my heart and spirit for the next thirty years. Although my life circumstances are so very different now than they were then, one thing remained remarkably clear. I had an inexplicable connection with the rocky coastline that ran deep in my soul. For some unexplainable reason, I felt instantly at home by the ocean, wrapped in peace and tranquility. I remember being utterly fascinated by the lobster boats back then, and over the years, jokingly told my friends that I had been a North Atlantic fisherman in another life. Who knows... maybe I was? That would certainly validate my emotions.
My specific destination on this day was to visit one of a series of islands that was now comprised of high-end resorts and spectacular summer homes distinctively mixed among the quaint dwellings of the local, year-round fishermen who earned their livelihoods there. I found the place without much assistance from a map... as though my little blue Honda Fit was somehow guided to the location all on its own. After crossing a series of small, two-lane bridges, the roads became much more narrow and the signs of population grew fewer and fewer. On the way to the tip of the Island, it began to snow, and I was thankful for my snow tires! I passed a small fishing village that, and despite the harsh weather, noticed that there still seemed to be some activity going on. I vowed to stop there on the way out.
Reaching island's end, thirty years since my last visit, the scene amazingly appeared just as I had remembered it, except that instead of a being overflowing with summer guests, it was virtually deserted. I immediately recognized the small, seasonal gift shop (winter not being one of those seasons), located in a weathered two-story building that possibly served as a residence during the preferred season. I also remembered the beach area, surrounded by large rock outcroppings, and a solitary statue of a fisherman, dedicated to the many brave individuals whose lives were taken by the often cruel sea. My mind was drawn back to a time when I climbed out as far out as I could on those outcroppings, trying to be as close to the ocean as possible. I imagined that "M" would have done the same thing when she was a teenager, as we were both were adventurous, "tomboy" types.
This time around, however, being a bit older, much wearier, somewhat wiser, and extremely more cautious, I decided to skip the climbing and just take in the panoramic vista from the shore. There was only one other vehicle in the lot, and sure enough, I saw some younger, more energetic, and very fearless folks at the far end of the rocks. They appeared to be looking for shells, and I began to do the same thing from the safety of the beach. I was able to collect a few Northern Atlantic treasures, and looked forward to showing them to "M" when I returned to her son's house, remembering the amazing sea-shell table displayed in her own home. I certainly had no idea that a year later, I would be sharing my shell finds with her on the shores of Florida's gulf coast!
I didn't stay long, as the snow began to fall faster, but felt profoundly peaceful as I put my sundry shells in my coat pocket and headed toward my little blue Honda Fit. My next stop was the small fishing village I had spotted on the way in. I pulled into a little cove, got out, and watched with awe as some very hearty men (and perhaps women) unloaded the day's catch. There wasn't much, but the fisher folks seemed completely engrossed in their activities, the holiday week apparently having little impact on their livelihood.
Over on the other side of the small village I noticed a busy restaurant. The parking lot was packed with cars, and as I drove closer to the establishment, I noticed that it was a fairly fancy-looking place, apparently geared towards those folks were able to enjoy some rest and relaxation during this festive season. Ironically, I fell into both categories of "folks". While I was a worker, officially in the area to provide care to "M" this week, I was also engaged in some R & R during my day-trip to the coast. I felt extremely grateful, and wanted to capture the memory in photographs... so that decades later, just like "M", I could look back with a smile and be transported to an earlier time and place.
Not interested in the eatery, I drove beyond it and parked my little blue Honda Fit (snow tires becoming more and more appreciated by the second!) near a storage area for lobster traps. I was fascinated at what I saw. Hundreds of lobster traps, some brightly colored, neatly stacked and ready for use. I thought of the fisher folks working on the other side of the village, and my mind imagined hundreds, maybe thousands, of similar boats unloading their precious cargo up and down the New England Seaboard. For some reason, this struck me as fascinating, perhaps because it was a way of life that I had never witnessed before... or perhaps I had really been part of this lifestyle in a previous life? You never know... Ignoring the steady snowfall, I began clicking away with my handy dandy camera phone, eager to share the photos with "M" later that evening.
And so I did. We sat again at her table near the large windows, my chair as close to hers as it could possibly be, and looked through my photos from the day's adventures. It certainly wasn't the same as looking through well-worn photo albums from decades past, but it was a clear reflection of the technological time that we are currently living in. "M" was delighted to share my adventures of the day, captured in photographic images, just as I had been thrilled to share her adventures from days gone by earlier that morning. It was as though we lived each others' lives vicariously, making the special bond between us even stronger. What a wonderful holiday gift!
A few days later, I helped "M"s son assist her down the basement staircase to where my little blue Honda Fit was parked in the garage. "What a beautiful shade of blue," she remarked, as she always did when she saw the vehicle. Safely buckled in, "M" asked me where we were going, and I told her that we were driving down to her daughter's home so that she could visit there for a while. "What fun!" she exclaimed, her beautiful smile still visible underneath a mountain of winter attire!
I was once again amazed by "M"s fortitude. Eight-nine years old and still ready for an adventure! I was truly honored at the opportunity to transport "M" the three hundred or so miles from her son's home to her daughter's home so she could spend some of the holiday season with each of her children.
Then again, any time I am able to spent in "M"s company is indeed an honor.
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