
Every August from infancy on, I’ve been carried or made my way to a quiet beach on the Maine coast, where there’s nothing to do but play in the surf or lie in the sand, gazing at the sea.
From the shore, you can see a small island hugging the horizon off to the east. Two green humps divided by a swath of meadow, just far enough away that you can’t really tell what may or may not be there. Over the years it’s kept watch over my personal stretch of ocean, providing the setting for childhood fantasy, teen daydreams, and adult contemplation.