The brief bio that has graced the end of most of my Gazette essays mentions how I left the area for 16 years and returned in 2013. Some may wonder where I was during those 16 years.

After brief stints in Wakefield, Rhode Island and Olean, New York, my family made our home in Kennebunk, Maine. Most people know the southern Maine coast as a great vacation destination; I got to know it as home, a home I frequently miss.

Upon separating from my wife, I returned to the Pioneer Valley as I had few options at the time. I was raised here and I love this very exceptional and accepting corner of the world. Just the same, the Kennebunks are pretty exceptional, too, although maybe not quite as accepting. This is changing as more people move there “from away.”

I recently drove to Portland as I had some business to take care of there and stopped at Parsons Beach, one of my favorite spots, probably a mile from my house as the crow flies. The term “my house” is kind of tough to swallow as I turned joint ownership of it over to my wife during our recent divorce. That is my last concrete connection to Kennebunk, although I still am in touch with a few friends there.

While I am fond of the ocean, I consider myself more of a “mountain girl” and love the North Conway, New Hampshire area. Just the same, living in a place so close to the ocean, the water really gets into your soul, especially after spending about a quarter of my life there. I have some special places not far from my former home, and although they are far from a secret, I hate to disclose them as I don’t want them overrun by tourists.

Visitors assume everything along the ocean is Kennebunkport, but that is not true. The Kennebunk River splits the two Kennebunks, so if you are having a beer at Federal Jack’s, you’re in the Lower Village of Kennebunk, but if you’re having fish and chips at Allison’s Restaurant, then you are in Kennebunkport, the summer home of President George H.W. Bush. (I prefer the Kennebunk side, as it was my side, although I’d regularly frequent both sides.)

Returning to this area is obviously bittersweet. I was living in Kennebunk when I came out as transgender, an initially exciting event for me that turned ugly rather quickly — instantly, you might say. I transitioned while living back here in the Valley, largely unknown to most of the people I was closest to in Maine, something that makes me kind of sad because I feel they never really got to know me, the real me.

Most of Maine is not known for being a liberal bastion, although the coast, the southern coast that is, with its many transplants from Massachusetts and beyond, as mentioned above, is fairly open-minded and progressive. Sometimes, I think of moving back, but in truth, I think I landed back exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I went back the last weekend of February, following my divorce, finalized at the end of last year. My brother and nephew went along to help me retrieve some of my remaining belongings from my former house, which going forward is deeded to my former wife alone.

Winter’s worst welcomed us to Maine, with moderate to heavy snow falling and the roads slippery as I went to pick up the smallest Penske truck I could rent, which was still the size of the Amazon home delivery trucks plying our roads these days. I cried as I contemplated the weather, driving a vehicle I didn’t feel comfortable in, and anticipating the task we would be doing. By the time I reached the house, I had “sucked it up” and was ready to go.

It went off well: We loaded the truck in the snow; the environment was civil, dare I say friendly. We finished loading late in the afternoon, by which time the snow had stopped and we were greeted by a nice view at the sun and parting clouds through the trees. Then we were off to Massachusetts.

Mariel E. Addis is a native of Florence. She left the area for 16 years but returned in 2013.

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