I’ve got to make furniture my metaphor for how I’m feeling about Maine. When it first sits in your living room its all clean and nice and sure there are little strange bits that maybe could have been better off, but it’s new. A new great piece of furniture that, well, is great. Then a few weeks pass and you wonder if you should have waited a bit and gotten the nicer one, or if it was really the right thing for your living room at this time. You push it around in your head to different sections of the room making sure that, it is indeed in the right spot. Maybe that is the problem with it, you think. Maybe if I push things around so it’s less ‘maze-like.’ As if that is the problem. You give up and get used to it. You bought it, now live with it. It becomes soft or brused and it gains your affection. Eventually you learn to love it and you can’t believe you ever lived without it.
The newness has worn thin and I’m starting to struggle.