nostalgia trip

 We walk through doorways all the time, but some close behind us for good. Last week my sister and I attended the closing on my parents' retirement home. Not where we grew up, but still about 3 decades of memories. It's a mixed passage, with melancholy and finality.

Fortunately, I could make a nostalgia trip to where I DID grow up: the Red Doors Motel. My parents built an 18 unit motel in 1956 when my sister was a baby. This postcard is circa 1970.

 Several owners later, changes have been made. It's now the Rodeway Inn, but the doors are still red.

What really brought me back: the pool. The diving board is gone, scene of many adolescent antics, and a few scars. But the ripple effect remains.

 

It was good to have it completely to myself, to swim through the most blue and fluid chapters of time.

At art school, I discovered an attraction to painter David Hockney, whose pool motifs rang a bell.

In the third assignment for Get Your Paint On, I tried to be less representational, push my boundaries, and play with matching paint colors. Is it any wonder I tried to match a red door?

Although I feel an indelible void, I draw comfort in knowing I can go on a nostalgia trip whenever I need to.

Meanwhile, lots to do. I embark on the first of my library visits tomorrow for Seven Days of Daisy.
I'll be at the Graves Memorial Library in Kennebunkport to read and invite anyone to find their 7 favorite things about summer.

I was thrilled to spot my book next to a favorite Maine classic, "Blueberries for Sal" in the window at my local bookstore!