I don’t allow myself the luxury of grieving. Instead I hide it like a secret pendant I wear on rare occasions. If I let myself start I’d probably never stop so I find I’ve returned to my former self the cynic who chides couples holding hands and locking lips needing to turn away. You wandered…

By Sarah E. Murphy I was on a train from Rome to Cinque Terre when I learned about the tragedy in Port Clyde. While scrolling online in an effort to get an answer about a situation I was dealing with back home, I couldn’t escape the headlines and corresponding photos. “Beloved Maine businesses destroyed by…