Monday, March 17, 2008

The Swaying Pines Of Youth

An old birdhouse stands in the Maine woods, not far from where I spent my youth.

I grew up in the woods of Maine. For those that have never visited Maine in the late Spring or Summer, it is an experience that you have to feel to truly understand.

I walked out of the Baghdad villa this morning and was met by a cool, dry breeze and bright sunshine. The birds were chirping away and the sky was a fantastic shade of deep blue. I closed my eyes for a moment and the experience rushed me back to my Maine youth, twenty-five years gone. It's amazing how the sound of morning birds, and a slightly chilly breeze can overcome temporal boundaries, and transport you back to the happy carefree moments of youth.

In the end, I smiled at the gift that the morning had provided me, knowing that the magic of growing up in Maine still existed inside of me. I've never been anyplace else that could compare, and for an unknown reason, I find great comfort in that.

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