Yesterday morning, after an infuriating battle with the airlines, which I'll get to in a later post, J arrived - 10 hours after he was supposed to - at 8 a.m. in Manchester, a three-hour drive from the house. I woke up at 5 a.m. to go get him, and when I got downstairs, the entire house asleep, found a folded piece of notebook paper stuck in the front door. It said something like: Cara Maria -
Wake me when you rock. I would love to be there when J arrives. Just know that I will sleep most of the time in the car.
PS - I'm serious
I smiled and went back upstairs and into the master bedroom closet, where Max sleeps. Since waking him is no easy task, I put my heart and soul into shaking him, patting his head, saying his name over and over, until he finally turned to me (after I'd ask just one last time: "You wrote here that you wanted to come, do you want to come?") and said, firmly, "No," then turned over and closed his eyes again.
Luckily, besides being tired, the ride wasn't bad. Driving through the quiet town at daybreak was, in fact, a lovely experience. The closed shops. The empty roads. Boats anchored in the harbor. I was glad we're north enough that the sun rises early because I'm reading "Off Season," a thriller by Jack Ketchum, and the first scene is of a woman driving down the Maine coast and then nearly getting beaten to death by a pack of cannibal children.
After the long drive, a few cups of coffee and filling up the tank I was reunited with J, who took a little nap and read some Stephen King on the way back until we arrived in Boothbay Harbor where he was greeted by all our friends. Naturally, it was only minutes before I'd lost him to the birds. I spotted him out on the rocks, field guide and binoculars in hand.
I'm very happy he's here and plan to spend the next 24 hours trying to convince him to abandon grad school and stay with us. That's what cool kids do this summer. They shirk all responsibility and live in Maine.
Max says I need to be more vigilant about taking notes and writing blog entries regarding this experience. He's right. There's a lot going on that merits recording. But it's a little tough because writing constantly would require missing out on some of the very things that need to be written about. I'll try my hardest, though. Unfortunately the camera I stole from my parents seems to be broken so I'm unable to document this experience with pictures for the time being, but hopefully I can get it fixed soon. There are happenings that need to be photographed here constantly. A few of us just got sandwiches at the Southport General Store, sat under the shade of pine trees at a picnic table outside on a hill and ate. Don't worry, we talked a lot about how awesome it was. We may be living some kind of shockingly fantastic lifestyle, but we're not failing to appreciate it.
Tonight Max, Rogue, Justin, Jennifer and I are going on the Reggae Cruise that takes off from downtown at 6. The boys described it as: reggae music, happy people dancing, and lots of drinks. That's right up our alley. Afterwards we'll walk over to McSeagull's to see Buffalino, "back by popular demand," which is how they were advertised in the Boothbay Register. They boys have been practicing hard every day and to show them our dedication we're going to convince everybody on the boat to join us for the concert afterwards. All in hard day's work.