GFT Publishing - Kelley's My Place

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A while back, I had a few years during which I was reluctant to go to the movies—not because I had ceased enjoying them but because, for the duration of the movie, I forgot where I was. In itself, that was okay. But afterwards, when I walked outside, I'd be overwhelmed with fresh dismay that I lived where I lived. I moved as soon as I could. A mismatch between soul and surroundings is not healthy.

Since then, I've lived in a bunch of places that fed some part of my spirit. Some, like our current home in mid-coast Maine, offer so much that it feels churlish to wish that I could also be able to walk to a restaurant. Others, like Cambridge, Massachusetts, where my husband and I lived for a decade before coming to Maine, provided plenty to nourish the mind but no room to grow food and little chance to see the stars at night.

The idea of there being a single place that is "my place" is so appealing that I want to say I have one. And, in some ways, I could say that mid-coast Maine is it, because Rob and I plan to stay put. But the truth is, I don't have one place; I have several. They are the places where I walk with ease, with pleasure—whether on a wooded trail or a city street, where I have a favorite coffee shop and bookstore, where I have good work to do and good folks to do it with. They are the places where the smells take me back, where I know the subway by heart or the short cuts along rutted dirt roads. Maine is definitely my main place, but I am fortunate to have several other places where I truly feel at home.