Maine

Leaving Maine never gets easier.  This is my ninth time working at Improv Acadia and my tenth goodbye.  My heart breaks a little bit every time I leave until I imagine it must be criss-crossed with fissures and scars.  I am hoping that maybe one day some astute Maine doctor will say to me, "I'm afraid you can't leave Maine again.  Your heart won't be able to take the strain."  I'd solemnly call my friends, my family, my various employers and say "I'm so sorry, but I have to stay here.  Doctor's orders."  Then, I would hang up the phone, do a jig and hum a happy tune while I perused real estate listings for a tiny house with just enough land for a vegetable garden.

I'd make jam.  I'd learn how to spin yarn.  I'd quilt.  I'd climb a mountain every day until I knew all of the mountains by heart.  And I'd never have to say goodbye again.