Week Four : Childhood Memoir

I woke up to the distant humming of trucks and tractors. Being so used to only sleeping to the sounds of crickets and frogs, these loud mechanical noises were foreign for me to hear this time of morning. 

I uncurled myself from the fetal position I was sleeping in and leaned to look out the window. 

In the earliest moments of day, it seems like everything in the world is impossibly still. This particular morning, the sky was a few shades of a light blue and purple. You could see behind the pines where the sun was starting to rise. 

My dirt driveway was mangled with large tire tracks. It was then that I remembered why I heard those loud trucks. This morning was when the cutting started. 

Living on 96 acres of forest, my life has always been surrounded by trees. Recently, my dad was given an offer by a local logging company for them to come and clear out some of the trees in my backyard. 

The loud noises of the trucks continued and I quietly stood up. I tip-toed downstairs, wary not to wake Cindy. 

No one was awake yet. It was a little past 5 in the morning. Everything was quiet in the house, except for a few croaks and moans coming from the old beams. I grabbed a blanket off the couch, careful to avoid the sleeping dog, and walked barefoot onto the front porch. 

The air this Indian summer morning was a crisp surprise. I wrapped the blanket around my arms and followed the noises of the working trucks. I walked across the cold, dew-covered grass and sat on the picnic table in my yard. 

From this spot, I could see many of the trucks working on cutting down the trees. I could hear the beeps, the wheels turning, the chains rattling. It was loud and I didn't understand how anyone in the house could sleep. 

When Dad first announced that this cutting was going on, I was angry with him. How could he cut those trees? Those trees that have harbored so many memories. The trees I climb are being cut. At the time I didn't realize that Dad was getting a lot of money for doing this, and he was doing it for his family. 

As a kid I curled up and sat and wondered. I thought about how different my backyard would look without trees. How different my life would look without trees. For me, it was all I had ever known. The thought of being without it... was scary. 

So here, first thing in the morning as the sun was rising, I watched as trees were taken from my home. In a lot of ways, the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach was much more then just losing trees. I can't say goodbye to something that seems literally to have grown to be apart of me. It was an emptiness that I couldn't explain. 

A couple weeks later, I was sitting outside of my dad. We were looking out to the field that used to be a forest. In the middle of the field were a few tall and full maple trees. One of those trees became my favorite place. If you sat at the bottom of the tree, you could see almost every inch of the sky. 

My dad told me that he kept those trees there because him and Grampy used to tap those specific trees for maple syrup. I may never have found them if the other trees were cleared. That place became a place I went whenever I had to think. I'd sit at the bottom of the tree and work everything out in my head. It seemed to be the only place that was only mine. 

I think I learned early in life that things are constantly changing. I tried to fight change. I didn't want change. I wanted things to stay the same. But sometimes, just sometimes, change is the best thing. 

Week 3

I've never trusted technology. But on this specific day, I truly learned why.
Over the summer, I had an appointment with a woman at the college I'm transferring to. I had scheduled it months before, so naturally, I completely forgot about it until I got a phone call reminding me. I had to scramble to find someone to cover for me at work, I quickly packed up my stuff to head out and I punched the address into Tom, my GPS system.
I got my GPS for my 18th birthday. Mom and Dad thought it'd be good for me to have it while I was on my own. And for the most part, I could trust good ole' Tom. For the most part, Tom was helpful.
I can vividly remember calling my mother earlier that day.


"Mom, how do I get to Machias from Bangor?" 
"Just take Route 9. It's not too long of a trip." 
"Hmm... I'll just put it into my GPS." 

I should have listened to my Mom.
When I got into the car and started on my trip, I was excited. Not only was I touring and getting to meet with people about a school I was really interested in, it was a gorgeous summer day and I got to take a nice drive.
But apparently, my GPS felt like my drive had to be 3 and a half hours long.
It was the longest drive I have ever taken by myself.
Even though it was a long-ass drive, I couldn't have picked a better day to do it. The sky was unbelievably blue, the clouds were the perfect, puffy kind that peacefully floated from one side of the sky to the other. A bright sun prompted me to slide on some aviator sunglasses, and I rolled down my window and played my favorite country songs.
When the drive started, I saw it as a great opportunity to think. Organize my thoughts. Driving is one of the only opportunities in my busy little life I have to truly be alone with my thoughts.
I couldn't help but smile at how good the sun felt through that windshield. My hair wouldn't stay in one place; but neither would my thoughts.
So many thoughts an aspirations I had revolved around the road. The dreams of the places it was taking me; the thoughts of the places it could take me.
Travelling. Sometimes that means a plane ticket or a bus ticket, or even a boat. For me today it was the Oldsmobile that was over half my age, and a road that was even older.
Tom took me through Ellsworth, which was a little concerning to me because I knew that that was in the opposite direction of where I should be going. I sorta shrugged it off and continued on driving.
As I was directed to drive out of Ellsworth, I saw a sign that said 'Downeast and Acadia : scenic drive'. It's a sign that I've seen all over Washington County as a kid. I figured that that meant I was on the right track.
I sit back and relaxed.

The trip went on for over 3 hours. Confused when I realized that I was driving for way too long then I should, I called my mom again. She told me that Tom took me on a different route; one that actually takes you around the state to get to Machias. If I would have cut through Brewer and got on Route 9, my trip would've been only half as long.
On that trip, I saw places of the state I had never seen before. I drove through places such as the Blackwoods; a forest with a winding road in the middle of it. I drove through nothing but trees for miles and miles. A lake sits in the middle of a valley in this forest; and the sight is breathtaking. Later upon doing research, I learned that the Blackwoods forest is actually locally famous; and apparently haunted.
I drove through Cherryfield, another place I had never been. Rustic and looking like it came straight out of a time machine, Cherryfield was a sight. It's refreshing to see a place so simple.
Every thing I passed on my drive were things that people had forgotten about when caught up in the busy life in the city. Maybe I had even forgotten just how whole it feels to be surrounded by this simplicity. I had been so caught up in my new life that I had forgotten that wonderful feeling.
The drive was beautiful; but when I looked at the clock, I realized that I was definitely going to be late for my appointment. Tom was telling me I still had over an hour until I reached my destination.
I called the school and let them know I was running late, and after that I just sat back and enjoyed the ride. What other option was there? No reason to get frustrated now.
As I drove along, I realized just how winding and bumpy this road was. Once I got closer to the ocean, the road was clearly eroded from the salty air. Every hill I got to the top of, I could see the Atlantic ocean past the pine tree horizon.
I smiled to myself, and realized how much I needed this drive. I was balancing 3 jobs all summer working 15 hour days. A few hours to myself almost never happened. As I zipped over hills and around corners in my rattly old car, I was reassured and relaxed about my choice to come back to the area that will always be my home. Nowhere else in the world can you see sights like this. Such untouched, unfathomable beauty.
I still don't trust technology, and from time to time, Tom will still make mistakes and take me to the wrong destination or will tell me I've reached my destination and I'm nowhere near where I need to be. But I like to tell myself that on that specific day, Tom took me on that drive for a reason. I may have gotten a sunburn on the arm I kept hung out the window, but it was the longest drive I've ever taken by myself. And maybe also one of the most important.

(fun fact: I learned later that the specific drive I took was in National Geographic's top 500 most beautiful drives on the planet!)