I lived in New Jersey 52 years, 5 months, and 3 days–a born-and-bred Jersey Girl.
I’ve now lived in Maine for less than 2 months.
Is it home?
Yes, in the most literal sense, it is now “home.” I am here with the love of my life, my husband Tim. We scaled back the possessions that come with 28 years of marriage and an 8+ room house and are comfortably ensconced in a truly lovely 2-bedroom townhome in one of the most beautiful locations on earth – Mount Desert Island, Maine. Our cat, Felix, made the trip with us and is probably even more comfortable than we are – because he’s a cat, and that’s what they do, make themselves comfortable.
We dreamed of coming here for nearly 21 years before we were able to make it a reality. Like lots of people, we looked forward to our vacations here nearly every year. I was a bit more possessed than most, I guess. I even subscribed to the local weekly newspaper and eagerly anticipated its arrival, 5 to 6 days after publication. Old news of Bar Harbor was still NEWS, and I would read it cover to cover, immersing myself in the local goings-on, to the point where I “knew” the drunk-and-disorderlies (from the Police Beat), the knee-jerk political pundit (from his rants in the Letters to the Editor), and the players in local business and politics. I was a stalker from afar – or “from away,” as they say here.
So, now I’m here. It is still beautiful. I still love it. But a Jersey Girl is always a Jersey Girl.
I live closer to the ocean than I may ever be able to again, but I miss having an ocean that’s actually warm enough to swim in (heck, I’d settle for “warm enough to walk barefoot along the waterline in” –the water’s just 55 degrees at the peak of summer!).
I can walk to EVERYTHING – shops, restaurants, the waterfront, a job (if I weren’t working from home) – a big deal for a child of suburbia, where the car was king! – but I miss the malls (yes, the ones I professed to “hate” the last few years in Jersey), Starbucks, Barnes & Noble.
Weirdly, I miss knowing all the exits on the highway. In New Jersey (and PA, too), I always knew where I was, where I was going, and the best way to get there. (I always said, “All roads lead to Trenton,” and it’s true; living near the state capital was its own kind of perk – you could never really get lost – drive a couple more miles, you’ll see a sign that says “Trenton”!) It’s the kind of knowledge you take for granted until…you can’t.
I miss the proximity to “the big city” – both Philly and New York – even though I only rarely ventured into the Big Apple. Just knowing they were THERE, with everything they had to offer, was a perk of living in New Jersey. You knew you could always go, even if you didn’t take advantage of the opportunity on a regular basis.
Most of all, though, I miss my family and friends. Downeast Maine is a long way to travel. Our grown daughter lives in Philadelphia and will be here for a week around Labor Day, but will that be enough? Undoubtedly not enough for her Dad and me, but we’ll make it count and figure out how the “visitations” are going to work going forward. Not sure how often my parents would be able to make the drive, and Tim’s sister lives in Seattle, so that’s even more of a trip. I have 4 siblings I’m exceptionally close to – all busy, of course, working, raising families, and putting kids through college – and I recognize the trade-off of coming here to visit me versus taking a vacation to another destination that they might prefer. I have lifelong girlfriends back in Jersey I can no longer just call and go see a chick flick with or go out with for a couple of drinks after work. I work here, they work there. It’s 600+ miles. It’s a long drive home after cocktails…!
So, for the first time in my married life, I don’t own a piece of New Jersey. But New Jersey still owns a piece of me.
And as my fellow Jersey-Girl-turned-Mainer, Martha Stewart, would say, “That’s a good thing!”
So, how about it? Any other Jersey Girls in exile out there? Are you happy where you are? Miss the ol’ Garden State, or glad to be gone? What’s the one thing (or lots of things) you’d have taken with you, if you could?
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