I saw this post last week and it made me think about my last three summers in Maine and all the stories — happy and sad.
As time moves on, people change: houses, feelings, physical appearance, and attitudes. And as these things change (for better or for worse), so do our memories.
So I want to write them down, as summaries, as I’ve already started to forget the details . . .
Flashback to 2010: I just graduated University. I made the 10 hour drive from Halifax to Kennebunk. We made music videos, we talked about serious subjects, we laughed, we sat quietly, we knew this was the last time we’d ever make that drive together. It was a summer of doubts, becoming a real local of my hometown — I discovered the secret spots, learned the back roads, and made new friends from town. I became closer with my high school girlfriends and I made bad decisions. I flirted with boys … and girls. I went out and discovered the Portland I never had known. We went white water rafting and hiking. I prepared myself to move to Spain (the first time) and I moved my brother into residence at the College of Charleston. I was 22.
Jump ahead to 2011: I came home heartbroken and lost. I found comfort in my old friends and I made new ones. My baby cousin Connor was born. I started focusing on photography. I shot my first wedding and was published in a magazine. I worked and saved money to do the Europe trip that hadn’t happened this summer. I drank beers and drove home. I spent many mornings at the beach with a coffee in hand. I wrote and I thought about what to do with my life. I visited friends in Canada. It was like time hadn’t passed by. I went back to the South & this time drove back to to North with my Dad. I saw the capitol of my country for the very first time. I walked the battle grounds of Gettysburg and shared chats with my dad over diner burgers and coke. We talked about our book we’re going to write (one of these days). And then fall began to creep up & so finished my Summer of 23.
And just last Summer 2012: I found peace in my small town; adventure in the city. I had just come back from three months in Europe and I had no money. I had my first office job. I worked in Marketing. I fell back into surfing and for the first time I appreciated the sunrise. I found peace in the ocean. I learned to really enjoy time alone. I found a kindred soul living just down the street. We became better friends and passed a lot of those Summer days together. I went hiking with the girls and we planned our getaway attacks if a bear came out of hibernation looking for food. I had friends visit from Europe & Canada. I had short love affairs. I made a decision to move back to Spain almost a year ago today. I studied to get my TEFL certificate and I passed with an A. I bought my plane ticket and I spent the most time possible with my friends and family. She threw me a surprise party that wasn’t a surprise before I left for Europe. I was hungover for “three days” according to my Dad. I went to Las Vegas and Los Angeles. I jumped out of a plane with my Grandpa Pope and we went to musicals at the Ogunquit Playhouse. We had breakfast together every Sunday (which could be the same since 2010, but I honestly don’t remember). And then I found myself here . . .
Now Summer 2013 is already slowly passing — tomorrow will be the first July 4th in four years I haven’t been in the U S of A. I’ll be teaching English and laying on the beach. I’ll be making the most of the sunny days in our forecast as they’re few and far between this season. But to keep myself entertained I shall keep on writing, taking photos, and enjoying my free time.
So don’t let those memories start to slip away. Make notes — these memories here aren’t even half of what happened, yet I can’t remember a lot. Time will just keep taking the details away from me, but I plan to fight it – to keep as much as possible (as greedy as it sounds)!