by Maxine Weintraub
My husband and I lived in southern Maine for almost fifteen years – in the shingle-style cottage we built across from the ocean in Kennebunkport in the early 1990s. He worked at Southern Maine Medical Center, and I ended up doing the advertising for a start-up internet company.
Over the years, we shared this home with friends and family, an ex-President and his family, famous authors and local bridge players, foxes and their families, carpenters and realtors and writers and well known historians, governors, moose, bobcats, snakes, deer. and chipmunks. Friends and acquaintances in pick-up trucks and limousines, “heat packing” secret service agents and rifle carrying hunters. Gracious first ladies and the owner of the local super market. Our children and their friends and then our children and their children. Weddings. Deaths. Republicans and Democrats and the generally disgruntled. Jews–not so many–and Catholics, Protestants, non-believers, card-carrying communists, born-agains and Bible thumping believers. Gays and straights, New Yorkers, Texans, and everything in between. Habitat for Humanity liberals and diamond dripping conservatives. Ministers and Rabbis and agnostics. All friends. And all in a small resort town in southern Maine.
We fell asleep at night to the sound of the surf and woke to the call of the gulls. The air was fragrant with the smell of the sea, hot tar, beach plum roses, and pine. On clear nights, the moon lit up the sea. The ocean sparkled.
I can still hear it and see it and smell it. Still.
Maxine, one of the founders of the current BOLLI Writers Guild, has frequently been published in the “Goose River Anthology.” She has self-published short story collections and is currently working on both a set of short stories to be published this year as well as a memoir focused on her life in Kennebunkport.