New England New Year's Eve

It seemed like such a good idea at the time; to spend even more time in a rental car with the entire family. Everyone was a "go," even Rich, which meant we seized the opportunity at its height. We were going to cruise down the Cape, shutter speed mach 90, making up for the millisecond it took to erase the memory card full of Nantucket mansions, which I'm never supposed to speak of again. (Typing is different though, right? And for the story's sake?) We'd be in a New York (up)State of mind by nightfall. Or, so we thought. Something like ten hours (and about 100 photos later) our Plymouth minivan rolled into the hotel lot near Buffalo. Our patience meters were as low as our gas tank, but my memory stick was full of gorgeous Cape Cod style salt box houses and I was a happy girl. I think I'm the only one who would dare say this, but I'd do it all again. I'd take the two-way road down the Cape in the middle of August. I'd listen to Chard's jokes about Cheboygan and bottles of water, Dad's puns, and Mom's complaints about Dad's puns just to spend more time in Salt Box House Heaven. I hope to take the same drive one day with my family. I may split it up into several days and stop, not once, but three or four times at the Mom and Pop ice cream shacks that dot the coast, but I've added it to the list of Things to Do With My Future Family.

Two years later, I found myself walking the salty soil along the same eastern seaboard, a bit farther north than Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We had taken a day trip to Maine and I was in love. It was like the Cape, minus all the commercialization. Minus the Ted Kennedy sighting and the near-death experience on the Nantucket scooter. I felt like I had just stepped into an L.L.Bean ad, golden retrievers running alongside the beach and all. And, as if the cake didn't have enough icing on it already, people kept stopping me on the street to ask for directions. Apparently, I looked the part. Needless to say, I came home with yet another memory card full of salt-air-weathered shingled houses and a new point on the map to obsess over.

When this played at the YBH a few weeks ago, I knew I needed to add another trip to my List: I'll celebrate New Year's Eve here and be among the first to ring in the New Year. With all the components of yet another New England Love Story: snow, firelight, a lighthouse, and a sunrise to beat the books, I'll be as happy as a clam, no matter the company. And sure, what the heck? Throw in four boys and a Subaru.
{photo of West Quoddy Lighthouse, Lubec, Maine via National Geographic}