The House on Cove Road

The real estate attorney pulled onto the short gravel driveway, turned the key off and said, "Well, here it is. The house your uncle owned for 63 years."

Maggie acknowledged the statement with a nod of her head while keeping her hand very still on the door handle. Unable to move. Her eyes scanned the chipped paint, the sagging stairs and the lawn with more weeds than grass blades. But then her eyes wandered down the street, past the white-steepled church and the towering telephone poles, to the sea.

A smile timidly curved up, rounding up to her cheeks as she nodded again, this time letting the attorney know she was ready to face the house that was now hers. Her hand opened the car door, and in that small movement, she felt her life shift into something peaceful and new.

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Little escapes to brighten your heart - all stories are fictional and inspired by quiet moments I capture on the coast of Maine.

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