The Stay

The map on her phone instructed her to turn right and follow the ruddy dirt road for one long, meandering mile. With each passing pine tree and pothole, her doubt about this remote stay crept in more, but she held onto her friend's insistent voicemail two weeks ago, "I promise, this is just what you need, and it's already done - I booked it for you, and you're going!"

Cam looked in the rear-view mirror at the backseat and numbly noted her halfhearted packing. An overnight bag stuffed with a variety of cozy sweats, the down pillow from her bed - still tear-stained, and a canvas tote bag with her hiking boots and an odd smattering of unread books she'd been meaning to get to for the last six months. She sighed out loud and focused her sights ahead again.

As the trees thinned, the sky slowly lightened, and the old lighthouse keeper's cottage appeared in a hazy, dreamy fog. The tires crunching on the gravel came to a slow stop and she turned off the key. She stepped out of the car, and with her arms resting on the door frame, she stood silently watching the fog lift and wisp away. With her eyes closed, she tilted her head toward the sky and with a calm sense of home, she filled her lungs with every ounce of sea air she could manage. And as her tense shoulders eased themselves lower, she exhaled weeks of sadness and worry, letting it all float out to sea.

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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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