An emotional uplift Down East
/The Boston Herald
We have friends who live on the coast of Maine. They used to own an inn, and for years they invited us there every Memorial Day weekend. And we went. And we made memories. Now they own a house. My youngest daughter was married there two summers ago. That was the last time I was in Maine.
Life gets in the way of living. Too much to do. So little time. Somebody can't get away for a week or a weekend, so no one gets away.
``Come, the house is yours,'' our friends say. They summer in New Hampshire.
So we went, finally, last weekend, not all of us - there is always someone missing, always a cloud or a hornet buzzing, but that's life. Most of us went. And we rested and read and played and laughed and ate too much and stared at the ocean and felt the sun on our backs and breathed in the crisp, clean air - and exhaled.And we wondered, why have we waited two years to do this? We found peace in Maine, total peace, the kind you have when you're a kid and it's a summer afternoon and you haven't a care.
The cares were out there still lurking, waiting for us. But for four days we turned our backs on them.
My father likes to ask: ``If you didn't know how old you are, how old would you think you are?'' Younger than the mirror says. This is always the answer.
If we didn't know how bad life is, how bad would we think it is? This I pondered all weekend. Because away from everything that connects us to the world beyond our senses, we were, for four whole days - hard to believe - happy.
We were living, for a while at least, not in the fear of the moment, but in awe of the eternals. The moon tugging at the tide. The gulls, different every year but always the same. A new crop of children, ours this time - Lucy and Adam. Lilacs were in bloom. The lupine about to be. And then there were the deer, bees, hornets, gophers.
Eddie and Michelle came to visit. They have four young children. It must be hard to raise children today, I said. But Eddie said no. It isn't. This is the best time for children. And this is the best country.
After Sept. 11, I went to church with Eddie and Michelle. The church was full of young parents and children, praying and hoping. Prayer. Hope. Love. Family. The world changes. But our small worlds never do. They are our sustenance.
Fear threatens them, though. Beware. Be careful - of traffic, of thunderstorms, of terrorists, of knives and guns and fire, of disease and disaster. And all the while we're bracing for the worst, there is right now, today, some days, so many days, the best.
We ate hot dogs and chips and so what? Why does even food have to be wrapped in warnings? I sat on a rock and watched the waves coming and going, never really getting anywhere, peaking and crashing, and it's the same with us. Life has its ups and downs.
But we focus on the downs.
It's June and the world is still spinning and who knows how long it will spin or how long any of us has? But we have now. And not just the messed-up now that man has made, but the renewing, regenerating eternal now that you can see not just from a rock in Maine but from anywhere, if you look.
Why can't we be as happy when things are good as we are unhappy when things are bad? Is life nothing but worry and work and fear? Or is it possible that life has been sold short and is far bigger and better than we are constantly being told?
