Towards the end of October, my mother and I spent a few days up in Maine for a much-needed vacation. I hadn't traveled really at all since the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic just because of work schedules and finances and, you know, general global circumstances. The last trip my mom took was to attend a funeral, so not exactly a vacation.
So we entrusted my presumably Maine Coon mix with a cat-sitter (thanks, Cara!!) and made the drive up to Maine.
But, of course, there cannot be a vacation without a hearty dash of chaos. Growing up, we always said it would take us an hour to actually get out of dodge because something would come up.
This time around, we thought we'd gotten that chaos out of the way early. A misread on our end when booking our hotel resulted in us leaving for Maine a day earlier than planned. No biggie, right? I'd already taken that day off to give myself time to pack and just ended up having to rush the process the night before after coming home from a closing shift at work.
It also sounded like it would work out in my favor because our original plan meant I'd be missing D&D night with my coworkers, so getting back a day early meant I'd be able to find out what was behind that door after our DM left us on a cliffhanger four weeks prior.
How foolish we were to assume everything would go off without a hitch!
We made it to Maine safe and sound Sunday, and even had enough time for a quick swim before the hotel pool closed for the night. Even managed to catch part of the football game (the only thing that would've made it better is if the Bengals had the primetime slot that week). Turn in kind of early, all is well. Mom and I even ended up going out at like 3AM for ice cream at a gas station because neither of us could sleep—which honestly made for one of my favorite memories of the trip.
But then, Monday happened.
As we were on our way to grab breakfast before setting off on the day's adventure, the tire pressure alert comes on. Well, comes on again. It'd been a persisting issue for a couple of weeks but didn't seem like anything crazy until the numbers dropped drastically—fast. For context, the PSI on the tire in question dropped from about 27 to 7 by the time we found a safe place to pull over.
I swear there was some Ari Aster-level foreshadowing here because the night before I was mentioning how odd I thought it was seeing a Town Fare Tire up that far north because I only thought they existed in CT, MA, and RI—kind of like how growing up I didn't realize Rhode Island was an entirely different state and not just another corner of Connecticut.
We ended up parked near Long Shore Beach and the view was a solace, all things considered. Once Mom got in touch with her auto insurance company, we had a good wait ahead of us, and I eventually decided to walk down to the beach. Since we traveled during the off-season, it was pretty quiet and not too crowded, which more or less meant I had a stretch of the beach to myself. Socks balled up in my pocket and sneakers in my hand like high heels after a wedding, I just strolled, listening to the rolling waves and taking it all in.
My mind wandered, as it often does, to my current WIP, a second-chance romance set in a seaside resort town. I already expected I'd be finding plenty of inspiration where we were staying during our vacation (even if it were on the other side of the pond). But in getting away, I was hoping to refresh and eventually reconnect with writing in general.
For much of this year, I've felt distanced from my fiction projects. Most of my writing has been for the blog, which is still writing, but there have been mites of guilt gnawing away at me because that's not what I'm "supposed" to be working on. A Tided Love underwent a decent reconstruction earlier this year, which is great, but I haven't had the easiest time finding my groove again.
Standing barefoot on the sand, I found myself noting some sensory details I'd want to work into my scene descriptions and wondering what specifically fellow tourist Caroline would notice as opposed to full-time Breamport resident, Thomas. What Caroline's thoughts might be as she stands on the shoreline staring out at nothing but sky and sea, ruminating on her late husband and her reemerging feelings for Thomas after having not seen him for ten years.
This year, in particular, I've found myself trying to be more present. I haven't taken as many photos at concerts and admittedly didn't take many during this trip. I actually left my book at the hotel since we were going to be doing some sightseeing that day. And while we were waiting for roadside assistance, I could have sat there scrolling on my phone, maybe listening to the true crime podcast I had on while doing my makeup, but I chose not to.
And I'm glad I didn't.
This impromptu beach day was far from the plan, but I think it was what I really needed to recenter myself in my fiction. Being forced to stop because of that flat tire is far from ideal, especially on vacation of all times, but it made me take the meditative break I didn't realize I needed so desperately.
Once we got the donut put on the car, we grabbed a quick bite at a diner before heading just over the New Hampshire border since that's where the nearest tire shop was located. Spending the afternoon there was far from the plan, so we ended up extending our stay and taking Monday as mulligan—even though I did ultimately miss out on D&D night with the work fam and didn't get to find out what was behind that Xolcora-forsaken door until my next shift.
Strangely enough, I'm kind of glad this happened. For one thing, it could have been so much worse. But it was also healing for me as a creative being. In the grand scheme of things, I'm taking it as a reminder to step back and allow yourself to stop. Do nothing. Let the thoughts come as they may. Just be.
Also, a MASSIVE thank you to the guys over at Sullivan Tire & Auto in Portsmouth, NH for going the extra mile to get us back on the road!
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