Northbound

It's been three and a half years since I turned in my lobster license plates and pointed Eddie (my car) south for New Bedford. It was a painful day moving to Massachusetts, eased only by the golden opportunity of grad school and a loving boyfriend who lived nearby there. On January 1, 2011, the day of the move, I promised myself that I would return to my home state as soon as I finished my Master's degree.

One year at a real job and a relationship later, that dream has not waned. With my ties in Mass broken, my heart once again yearns for the north. The difference is that now I'm free to go! Yesterday Eddie and I were northbound for a visit to Maine, but the drive had a new meaning. Tomorrow I will continue north from my home town to see my new school, and meet my PhD advisor. Yes, I begin a doctorate program in January. Maine is finally drawing closer on the horizon.

I have always felt a sense of relief when I cross the border from Mass into NH. Like when as a child you added a drop of detergent to a bowl of water, breaking the surface tension and sending your little paper boat across the tiny pond. It's analogous to that feeling of released tension. After escaping Mass, Maine feels that much closer. The NH air feels cleaner, the landscape more open, and the straight stretch of highway taunts me to drive faster. It is there that I received my one and only speeding ticket on such a drive Home.

Eddie's bow follows a gradual bend and the highway starts to incline up a gentle slope. Then I see it. My heart jumps with joy. The magnificent green bridge rears ahead. I rubberneck at the apex of the arch, eager to take in the first sight of Maine. I used to let out a whoop at that point in the drive on my way home from college. I still feel the same elation, but a contented smile is sufficient. Crossing to the other side, my body relaxes and my muscles feel at ease. My mother says that her "molecules fall into place" when she returns home from traveling. I used to think that was a goofy thing to say. But that's just how I feel returning to Maine. A sense of belonging. A sense of place.

A friend of mine asked "Why do you want to return Maine?" when I shared my plans for the winter. He commented that your hometown is never as you remember it when you return. I tried to explain the natural beauty of the landscape, how deep my familial roots run, and the friendliness and sense of community unique to the state. But it runs deeper than that. It isn't just community, it's the strong sense of local culture that colors Maine communities so brightly. Cape Cod simply is not made of the same glue. There is a sense of transience on the Cape, perhaps that stems from being a wealthy vacation destination. It's difficult to put one's thumb on in, but the Massachusetts communities in which I've lived don't share the same feeling of interconnectedness. They lack the spirit that one's well-being is enhanced by participating in the local community.

This fall I will be northbound one last time and not just for a visit. Maine is where my heart fills and where my spirit is free. The north is where I belong. I expect this time I will return to stay.