By Allison Spence

This past week we’ve been cooped up inside waiting for nap times and running out of crafts to do. It’s always weeks like these where I look forward to the traditions of Maine and returning there for another summer.

The sound of a slamming screen door, only there to protect the antique panes on the door below. The smell of pine and salt circulating the air. Oh and the view, the most incredible view, a rocky coastline covered in seaweed, barnacles and a hint of hidden sea glass. On a clear day you can spot a few local mountains and the houses across the bay.

Every summer we return to my parents cottage on Mount Desert island. This cottage holds so much value to me, it’s where the majority of my growth happened. Up until about four years ago I didn’t have any cellphone service and mom and dad wouldn’t buy internet for a home we only spent one month out of the year in. So summers to me were walking the beach with a portable CD Player and headphones while looking for sea glass. The days were filled climbing rocks with my sisters and stopping at roadside bake sales with my mom.

Now Maine holds new value to me. It was where I married Garrett and where our dearest friends gathered to watch the finale of a love story they had been following for so many years. It’s where I wore my mother’s wedding gown and I walked down my Grandmother’s stone steps towards Garrett, my third most favorite person in the world (behind our two children).

I remember the summer of Grafton and his first time in Maine. I remember sitting alone with him on the front porch watching the sunrise all bundled up so we wouldn’t wake anyone else up. Garrett and I sitting at the kitchen counter laughing about having a baby while eating our frozen wedding cake, on our first anniversary. Honeymoon babies happen, and we wouldn’t trade ours for the world.

And then there was last summer, when we decided to stay in a tent on the property. The tent was incredible with tons of room, we had a full size mattress and crib inside, along with a chair and a few lamps. One morning I woke up to Grafton babbling and as I looked up at him I realized his eye was completely swollen shut. We rushed to the local urgent care only to find out it was a mosquito bite.

I remember joining two of my siblings and their children every morning at 6:00 for what we called “the morning crew” where we drank coffee and made fun of each other. Oh and then there was the one night where I made Garrett sneak away to buy me a pregnancy test. I told him I wouldn’t look at it until I returned to the tent but of course two pink lines appeared faster than I could walk back.

And then there’s this year, the year we bring our two babies to Maine. Two weeks of lobster rolls, Rosalie’s pizza, strawberry rhubarb pie and Town Hill sandwiches.

Two weeks of Grafton throwing rocks on the beach, chasing his cousins, and running around the town band stand as they play patriotic tunes.

Two weeks of Eleanor being handed off from one adult to the next as we eat breakfast on the front porch. Planning the day ahead of hikes, swimming and of course our next meal.

I hope for the days of Grafton and Eleanor making their own Maine memories and traditions. But for now I’ll reminisce on my own till we return.