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An Evening in Maine

One breath is all I need to make my smile bigger than the Grand Canyon. That salty breeze brushing your face, the long, tall plants tickling your bare legs, the beautiful tunes sung by the birds and occasional grasshoppers. It’s everything that makes my life complete. I run across the tiny rocks that make up the path I am walking on. I don’t know why I’m running, it just feels right. As I start to lose my breath, I slow down and step down the rock steps down to the water. You can hear the bells on the boats chiming away in rhythm to the rocking of the lobster boat. As I remove my flip-flops from my pale feet, I feel all the sharp little shells that lay on top of the small rocks. You would think it would hurt, but it is the exact opposite. It feels like a foot massage, but less ticklish. I still have my huge smile on my face, but by now, my legs start to hurt, so I put on some of my vanilla smelling chap stick. At that moment, even though I have on a huge gray sweatshirt that covers my legs down to my knees, I feel absolutely beautiful. Inside and out. Who knew so much joy could come from one evening in Maine.





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