Maine: Vacationland; Relaxationland

I've always been told I don't take enough time to stop and smell the roses. I usually get through each day on a well-planned and highly congested schedule that is booked minute-by-minute and has very little wiggle room for alterations or last-minute changes. But this weekend, I stopped to smell the roses.

After a mini-breakdown on Thursday night, which resulted in tears usually reserved for Friday board room meetings and cheesy unrealistic-but-I-wish-they-came-true movies, I packed my overnight bag and hit 95-N for an overnight with the Portugal gals. 

We made it record time - just over one hour. Within seconds of entering the front door, I had a glass of wine in hand and a perfect spot near the fire. There was laughter, pictures and more wine. The next morning, after a few hours of sleep and a few more tears, I opened the front door and took a deep breath of the fresh air, then exhaled as if the world depended on it. To most of the country, Maine is known as "Vacationland"; to me, the state is a quite retreat and a forceful relaxation that if nothing else, reminds me to just breathe.

(Cape Porpoise, Maine)