Summer Cove

They met every July since 1996 - long before any mention of wrinkles ever found its way into their current conversations. Janie and June would roll in first, usually minutes apart which always made them laugh as they embraced in the driveway. Janie’s duffel was stuffed with flowy linen tops and bottoms that she hung on the pegs in her small upstairs room, never bothering to iron out the wrinkles since she said it was part of the “New England charm.”

June was the cook in the group so her first priority was to unload the paper sacks of groceries - brimming with peppered crackers, some soft French cheeses and several bottles of their favorite $9 rosé.

As they moved through the house, shutters were hooked open and windows were slid up as far as their old painted sashes would allow and the house would take several deep cleansing breaths and the porch would relax her tense boards. After a lonely winter, the house was just as happy to have them back as they were.

Barbara, who was always running late in the group was determined to be on time this year. But with only an hour remaining in her arrival she realized that she forgot to pack her “ever-loving blasted bathing suit”, so in the group text chat she let them know she was stopping at the local hardware store, that thankfully housed a respectable selection of clothing in the back. Could she pick up anything else that was needed?

They were strong, tender and silly. They were kind, attentive, feisty and trusted. They were of dearest friends.

[photograph by me - story is fictional]

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Note: Taken in the summer of 2021 on the coast of Maine, in the quickest moment of time - only one photo snapped - while walking on the road above them. This photo then and now, has embodied so much of what my soul craves; fresh air, warm sunshine, pure water, freedom of time and surrounded by caring friends.