“Are you going to Maine? “
“Yes, we are going. We are going. Yes, we are going to Maine.”
—Richard Eberhart, 1975
Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I close my eyes and I try to hear it. In the distance, it’s there. Just above the sound of water lapping at the rocks, down the long green lawn, past the wild flowers that tickle your legs, through the open wooden stairs, to the beach. But I am distracted by a slapping sound of water against the wooden bulkhead and a rogue wave splattering against the g...