It was hot and humid, an unseasonable trend for Maine that would continue (or so I was later told while talking to locals.).
At the moment I didn’t mind. The air was heavy with the salty smell of the marshes as we drove through. It wafted in through my open window. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. The smell always reminded me that the beach was getting closer, almost like a welcoming committee before reaching home.
The hotel we stayed in was a big 100 year old building situated in front of the ocean. It looked beautiful and grand on the outside (or as much as possible after 100 years) and the inside was just as lovely, with spacious rooms and comfy beds. Of course, there was no AC. Not even window air-conditioners. The hotel prided itself on keeping that old-time feel. So there were only ceiling fans. And mine was on high the entire time while my window was flung wide open.
I’m glad we had nice weather (sun everyday), but we always seem to visit Maine while they’ll having an unseasonable heatwave. Although, it’s better then rain, so I really can’t complain.
Anyway, that night I sat on the edge of my bed looking out the window at the ocean. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything, but I knew it was there. I saw it from my room while the sun was still out and now I could hear it. There was a tiny breeze that blew inland and with it came the briny smell of the sea.
That smell makes some people gag, but I love it. I breath it in whenever I have the chance. I fill my lungs with salty sea air…and I don’t regret it.
That night, when everything became quiet, the ocean was still making it’s presents known. The constant crashing of waves lulled me to sleep like a baby being rocked in its mother’s arms.
The ocean in my home.
It’s my second home, my home away from home. And for a few days that’s where I would be – by the ocean.