She looked like she was modeling winter clothing for a catalog that sold expensive and stylish winter clothes to people who live in warm places so they have something nice to wear when they visit winter on the occasional weekend. Her jacket was white and had a brightly colored flower pattern exploding all over it. And she had a cerulean blue hat on—with matching scarf and gloves.
And she looked cold.
And it wasn’t cold.
It was nineteen degrees.
The woman looked like she definitely wasn’t from northern Maine.
Or from anywhere in Maine.
Or from anywhere where winter actually happened.
East wondered why she was standing in the middle of his yard—in the middle of winter—in the middle of the night—staring up at the sky.
“I thought I saw someone out here,” he said, hoping the woman would explain what she was doing in his yard. But she didn’t say anything. So East said, “I was about to go to bed and I thought I saw you from my window.”
The woman didn’t respond and just kept looking up at the sky.
East followed her gaze upward to see what she was looking at.
It was just the same old northern night sky that he had been looking up at his whole life.
And then he looked back at the woman and asked, “Is there something I can do for you?” He hoped he sounded like he was there to help.
The woman turned to East and said, “Oh, no—thank you, though. I’m just here to see the northern lights.”
And then she smiled and resumed looking skyward.
“Okay,” said East, and he wondered if maybe she was one of those astro-tourists he had been hearing about. “Okay,” repeated East. “It’s just that—it’s kinda late.” It was about 8:45, which was late for East but not for the woman. “And you’re in my yard.”
“What?—Oh, no!” cried the woman, genuinely concerned. “I am?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” The woman was definitely from away, East decided, because she said she was “saw-ree” the way people from away did. (Northern Mainers say they’re “sore-ee” like Canadians do.) “I didn’t know I was in anybody’s yard!” continued the woman, sounding flustered.
“Well, you are, but it’s okay—”
“I thought I was just in a random field,” interrupted the woman.
“Well, it used to be a potato field. But now it’s just … my yard.”
“Oh,” said the woman as she looked out over the snowy landscape.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. I’ll see them tonight—the northern lights—and then I’ll be gone. I hope you don’t mind!”
“Is that your tent?” asked East, having espied a dome-shaped silhouette a few yards away from the woman.
The woman looked to where East was shining his Maglite. “Um … yeah, yes!” The woman was nodding and smiling.
“You’ve pitched a tent,” said East blankly.
“Yeah—”
“In my yard.”
“Yeah, so I have a place to sleep after I see them. I hope you don’t mind!”
“Well,” began East. He didn’t really mind or not mind that this stranger had pitched a tent in his yard, but the woman was getting the feeling that he did, in fact, mind that she was there, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him, because she didn’t like to inconvenience people. “Oh, no!” she cried, “You mind, don’t you?”
“Um—”
“Yeah! You do! Oh, no! I’m sorry!” she cried, pronouncing sorry in her from-away way. “I didn’t think you would!” She pulled her cerulean gloves off with her teeth and took a glossy, folded-up wad of paper out of her jacket pocket. “See, I read that … um…” The woman shoved her gloves in her pocket and unfolded the wad of paper, reading from it as she continued. “I read that you wouldn’t mind. See, it says in your brochure that people from Maine live life ‘the way life should be,’ and that, in the tradition of their brethren in rural northern climes like Scandinavia, they’ll let people who are complete strangers like cross-country skiers and hikers and bikers just camp out in their yards if they need to. They’ll just let you.”
East wondered who had written this brochure—and why she thought it was his.
“Is it true?” continued the woman. “That they’ll just let you? Camp out?” The woman stuffed the brochure back in her pocket and retrieved her gloves and put them back on. “I’m a hiker,” she clarified. “Is it true? That they’ll just let you stay in their yards if you need to?”
Before East could answer, the woman was providing information that was more cryptic than illuminating.
“’Cause I need to. Camp out. ’Cause I’m where I need to be. And I came a long way to be here—I’m from a part of the country that’s a little closer to things. I’ve never been this far north before. Or east.” The woman took in the sky and the wide-open, empty space of the northeasternmost corner of the United States. She felt like she was in a forgotten place. Unthought of, even. Which is one step below forgotten, because forgotten places were once at least thought of.
“Anyway,” she continued, still marveling at the wide-open space, “it feels like the end of the world. And here I am at the end of the world, and I have nowhere to go, unless it’s not true, I mean, is it true?” asked the woman, turning to East. “Would you let a hiker who was where she needed to be camp out in your yard for free? I mean, if a person really needed to?”
“Well—”
“Really, really needed to?”
The woman fell silent and waited for East’s answer. Which wasn’t forthcoming, because East was a little overwhelmed by all of the woman’s questions. There were so many of them. And they seemed more like demands than questions. Which, East had come to learn, was how people from away often asked their questions.
But East didn’t seem to mind all of the woman’s questions/demands. Because he just wanted to help her out in any way he could. “Well,” he began, “if a person really needed to stay here and camp out … well, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that, but—”
“Oh!” cried the woman, interrupting him and rushing him. “Thank you!” she exclaimed. And the next thing East knew, she was hugging him, and her face was embedded in his torso.
He smelled like woodsmoke and gasoline, and the woman felt like she wanted to smell that smell for the rest of her life.
And she felt a strange lightness start to fill up her insides. It made her feel like she had the glow of the Milky Way inside her. And like gravity might lose its hold on her.
East was also feeling that strange lightness—again. This time, it made him feel like part of him was levitating—as if his one self had become two, and his levitating self was looking down at the earthbound one that was being embraced by the woman. But then the woman suddenly pulled away from him, and East felt his floating self crash back down into his earthbound one. And he felt like a magical spell had been broken.
“I’m so sorry I did that,” said the woman, stunned by all the feelings she was feeling.