As a natural-born dreamer, I am often envisioning my future life in various states of beauty, bounty, camaraderie, and contentment. Early this summer I was talking on the phone to a close girlhood friend about one aspect of ‘the way life should be’ – rather, the way I wished my life would be. This particular vision – a long-held dream depicting me as the consummate world traveler and lifelong friend, exploring remote landscapes in the presence of close friendships I’d cultivated over many years. Never mind that my history has been more characterized by ending relationships once they’ve become strained, or that my adventures have been few, and usually within driving distance of my home – my imagination perseveres! My friend then simply said, in her wisdom, “Why not? Let’s just do it.” That very evening our dates were agreed upon, the region of interest set, as well as the character of the trip we were longing for.

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And so, a season later – I found myself in Maine in October. Autumn is my favorite time of year in that glorious place, which I have not experienced since leaving it fourteen years ago. I so wish to share every nuance of our adventure, but for blogging purposes, let me briefly tantalize you with…. (I hope you haven’t eaten yet)… warm apple cider, sharp cheddar cheese, fresh home-baked apple pie, peanut-butter fudge, artisanal breads, local organic goat cheese, olives, lush Italian red wine, local amber ale, creamy fish chowder, lobster rolls, handmade linguine with wild Maine mushrooms and radicchio in cream sauce, platter-sized pancakes with tiny sweet Maine blueberries and real maple syrup. I did eat my way through the state! We were surrounded by deep red foliage, brilliant orange, leaves (still on the tree) with bright green centers and flaming edges. We kicked through a field of ankle-deep fallen leaves, the musty earthy smell arising with every kick. There was a co-o-old pond with whitecaps, layers of shirts, sweaters, scarves and windbreakers, a breathtaking vista of the pond from the top of the hill – sitting on a huge granite boulder to take it all in – framed by giant firs, sections of the forest covered in orange pine needles, and the smell of living Christmas.

I hope my virtual slide show has kept you reading… because here comes the golden center of this journey. My friends’ two-and-a-half year-old daughter running, arms outstretched, and catching one of her three orange hens in her arms, over and over again. Meeting her older siblings and realizing that their mom and I were close to that age when we first met. Greeting our girlfriends at the cabin – being all together there. Cooking with and for one another. All of us moms to young children, all of us married to men whom we so love and appreciate – most recently for staying home with our children while we enjoyed our sojourn. All of us recently 40, with the many attendant insights that this threshold has offered. We read tarot cards late into the night, which gave way to sharing our stories, our deeply held wishes and fears for our own lives and the ones we love. There were two wonderful hikes, with exceptional vantage points of the mountains and one another; there were moments of penetrating silence in the company of trusted friends. And the fairy house. The one we jokingly started, and said we would only ever create with our daughters, and then grew quiet as we each found our task, our special gift to the faeries, the woodland creatures, and each other.

This adventure I could not possibly have perfected in my mind’s dreaming. It was such a moment in a life, having presented itself so easily, was embarked upon, and is unfolding more and more, even upon return to my bustling city.

So, was this a taste of the way life should be? Can every day be so perfectly sublime? I do love my home state and all it offers. Perhaps what I value the most is the window it gave me this autumn, into a more valuable and peaceful state of being.
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