Home Sweet Home...

 Twenty years our little family was happily entrenched in Memphis, Tennessee.  We had moved there from Massachusetts when Rachel was 3 months old to take advantage of the chance to buy the house Chris was raised in for a song. We later sold that house and purchased a larger one in the art district. We had good friends; I had a successful business, and Chris had a job he loved. Rachel was about to age out of the beloved Montessori school she had attended since she was a tot, and we were at a loss about what to do for her high school years. The public educational system in Memphis was not something we were excited about. The private high schools were not in our budget.

One night while we chatted at the supper table, Rachel asked, "Why don't we just move somewhere with good public schools?" The conversation ground to a halt. Chris and I locked eyes, and the possibilities that opened up with that one innocent question came pouring out at us like Pandora's box. 

As a pet groomer, I could find work almost anywhere, and his degrees in business administration and computer science made him highly employable as well. Rachel's innocent question led us to begin thinking way outside the box. We bought a map of the U.S. and began exploring where we might like to live. We came up with a list of criteria for our ideal homestead. We wanted a place with low crime that was scenically beautiful. Of course, it had to have good schools. Ideally, it would be near the ocean. Near family would be great, but not so close that anyone would pop in unannounced. We looked at Mississippi, the Carolinas, and the Pacific Northwest. We considered Virginia. 

Since I was a little kid, I have yearned to live in Maine. Growing up in Massachusetts, some memorable Maine vacations caused me to fall in love, hard, with the state. I never mentioned it during our search because my dearly beloved husband hates winter. And Maine has winter in spades. 

One day Chris came home from work and, at dinner, announced, "I found a place for us. It has good schools, very low crime, it's beautiful, and near the ocean. It's an easy drive for your family to visit, too." My mind reeled; where could he be talking about? He gave me a triumphant grin. "Maine!" I started to mention the months of snow and cold, but my higher power gently placed a hand over my mouth. "Maine?!" I said. I swallowed my glee down hard and said, "What a GREAT idea!" 

We began to spend every Sunday morning in front of the computer. Him with a cup of coffee, me with herbal tea, looking at real estate advertisements. We were optimistic dreamers, planning our next adventure. 

We made a springtime trip to Maine to look at houses. Our patient realtor showed us 14 homes in a day and a half. Our heads were spinning. After much discussion, we made an offer on a place I had fancied from the day it first popped up on our computer screen. We moved here in early July 2003. 

It fits us like an old pair of comfortable blue jeans. The last twenty years in Maine have been the sweetest of my life. All of it centered here in this good house. Chris grouses every time a snowflake falls, but I don't think he'd change a thing. Rachel lives five minutes down the road with her husband and daughter. 

When I was a little kid and wanted ALL the pets, my mother used to say, "You can have all the animals you want when you are a grown-up." As I sit writing this, I hear my rooster crowing, the hens crooning and clucking as they hunt for bugs and tasty greens. Four beautiful goats are dancing in the pasture, with plenty of room to roam, browse and play. It's a dream come true. 

 Tonight the supper table will be filled with friends and family for Saturday Supper. This old house shelters our love and our loved ones. Here there is a peaceful easy feeling that even visiting customers recognize and appreciate. We are so grateful to have had twenty years in this lovely place.