Everything Holds Too Many Memories

The photo below was taken ten days ago, after we met with our realtor and after taking five quick, calm minutes to agree on the few pieces of items we each wanted in the house - we will be leaving the rest.

He gets our beloved pine dining table he made with his son Eric. I get the raw wood kitchen bench that holds special memories of a friend who has since passed. All the collected art is mine with the exception of two pieces he asked to have - pieces I love but of course I said yes without hesitation. I know he will enjoy them just as much as I would.

Everything else holds too many memories - tainted with a life together that is ending. A weight that is heavy that neither of us want to carry into our new lives.

He made a simple ravioli dinner, I helped with the sautéed kale - a dinner we’ve had a hundred times together. Afterward, ice cream sandwiches - forgoing the Amish made Adirondack chairs I bought several years ago from Noah Yoder in his front yard as his barefoot children stood and watched - the chairs will also stay. We always prefer sitting on the granite steps anyway.

A quiet conversation between bites, a soft hug good night afterward as I grabbed my still warm bag of clean, folded laundry and then a wave goodbye. Our new awkward normal. It’s so weird - that’s all I can say - but I’ll be sharing more in the coming months, because even though it’s been crushingly sad, it’s also been beautiful and it’s important for you to hear how we are living through all of this.

And my journey, my becoming, isn’t a neatly packaged story. It’s a death, a rebirth. It’s a beautiful, raw rising with many layers that are difficult to tie up in an organized stack, but I will do my best.

Then there’s the cabin. An incredible once in a lifetime chance for a summer season in an off the grid cabin - a chance for me to breathe and live intentionally. I can promise you, it’s going to be a wild one! And if all goes as planned, what I share will not only bring a smile to your face, but it will also soften, awaken and inspire hidden parts in your heart as well - an awakening walk for you and me.

Lastly, this documentation takes a commitment from me, so I’m asking the tiniest commitment from you in return if you choose to follow along. From here on out, my personal journals, my videos, my detailed cabin life will be accessible for a mere $6 a month here. Think of it as if you’re buying me two shucked oysters on the Damariscotta River as we chat at a picnic table, or buying me a pretty little box of matches from the new book store that just opened in Wiscasset so I can light my dozen lanterns at night.

There will be much more to come!

With love and gratitude,

Megan

p.s. I tapped out these words on my phone two nights ago, as it was tethered to my tiny portable solar battery pack, typing with only my right thumb, with tears running down my cheeks at time, under the covers in my loft bedroom, while seagulls squawked outside my open window, as thunderheads rumbled in the distance. Life is a ride!

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