A Moment

Saltwater, sandy feet and the simple joy of an August afternoon.

There are places we travel to see and then there are places we return to, because somewhere along the way, they have become part of our lives.

Maine is the latter for us.

Our yearly pilgrimage north is one of the things I look forward to most. The long drive from Atlanta (yes, we’ve done it more than once), or a flight into Boston followed by that familiar journey up the coast. Either way, somewhere between Massachusetts and Maine, the air changes. The windows come down. The first glimpse of water appears. And summer seems to slow down a little.

Over the years, Ogunquit has become one of my favorite places to stop.

Its name means “beautiful place by the sea,” which feels almost too perfect. There are three miles of sandy beach here, an unusually generous sweep of sand for this part of the Maine coast, but we always make our way to Main Beach.

And then, not much of anything happens.

Which is precisely the point.

Shoes come off. Toes find the cold Atlantic. Someone inevitably gets wetter than planned. There are sandy feet and pockets filled with shells, children running in and out of the surf and that particular golden light that arrives late on a summer afternoon.

The kind of afternoon you wish you could bottle.

The photograph above is exactly that for me.

Not a grand occasion. Not something planned. Just one of those ordinary little moments that somehow becomes the thing you remember.

If you find yourself in Ogunquit...

Make a morning of it.

If you're coming from the south, stop first at Congdon’s Doughnuts in Wells. They’ve been making doughnuts there since 1955 and a box headed for the beach is about as Maine-summer as breakfast gets.

Then head for Main Beach and park yourself near the Norseman Resort, the wonderfully old-school beachfront hotel sitting right where Ogunquit Beach begins.

One little thing I love: near the row of benches by the Norseman, we’ve often found a bin of well-loved beach toys left for children to borrow. Pails, shovels, the sort of things you inevitably wish you'd remembered once your feet hit the sand. I can't promise it will always be there, but when it is, it feels like one of those charming little gestures that makes a place memorable.

Stay awhile. Let everyone get sandy.

And when hunger finally wins, walk over to Ogunquit Beach Lobster House, right beside the water. Grab a lobster roll, oysters and a basket of fries and find a spot overlooking the tidal river. The restaurant sits at 111 Beach Street, with decks looking over the tidal coast and the bridge back toward town.

I hesitate to declare anything the best on the entire East Coast, but their lobster roll and oysters make a very convincing argument.

Then linger.

Watch the tide change. Let the kids run back toward the water. Don't worry too much about the sand that will inevitably make its way into the car.

Because these are the days.

Not necessarily the perfectly planned ones or the places checked off a list. Just an August afternoon in Maine, salt drying on bare legs, a half-eaten basket of fries on the table and sandy feet headed back to the car.

A moment, really.

And somehow, everything.

— Michelle