Each time I transition from Houston to Maine and back, I’m aware of the differences.
Houston is where I have lived for most of my adult life. It is where many long time friends are and until recently, it was where most of my family resided. I have had to get used to the absence of my mother and now Houston will seem emptier without one of my daughters. Houston is busy with so many distractions that it is often difficult to enjoy quiet time alone or with friends.
In contrast is Maine where life is, as the welcoming sign says, the way it should be. Here I love the simple things.
I love the smell of newly mowed grass and the clean white of Adirondacks.
I love the blooming flowers that are, in the words of my daughter, brave and outspoken.
I love the lilacs that are about to burst into bloom and fill the air with their sweetness
and the peony buds that are tight, waiting their chance to explode with color.
I love the sound of Pipe Dreams, with her promise of island exploration, as she rides up and down on the pier
I love the view outside my window and the clouds dropping soft rain that quiets my soul
and keeps me inside reading by the fire. Yes, in June.
While it’s hard not to think about Houston being home, it does not have my heart the way Maine does.
Joining Seasonal Sundays