Yesterday, as we walked beside it, the sea looked like steel and felt just as cold. It had shed its welcoming sheen of summer and early fall and taken on its customary winter hardness. The dirt and gravel crunched against each other underneath our feet—the sound and feel were as familiar as my mother beside me. My parents met on Beauchamp Point, a jut of land that protects Rockport Harbor, and I’ve walked the land and sailed the sea beside it for my whole life. I know every crag of rock, every scraggly and now leafless limb hanging over the water.My history lies along that piece of land, and because of it, Maine feels like my real home. Whenever I go back and go on my family's customary walk around "The Point" a part of me that is always by the ocean returns to me; I feel more whole there than I do anywhere else. When Facebook still asked for "religious views" that showed up right on your profile, mine simply said "Penobscot Bay." While I was trying to be witty and cool (per usual), it was and still is completely true.
I brought my camera on our walk yesterday morning so that I could show you why it's so special, and I hope I managed to capture a little bit of the splendor. Sadly, I cannot send the saltiness of the air nor the feeling of the breeze across the internet so these photos will just have to do for now.