The decision to leave Brooklyn for Maine was one that my husband and I made rather rashly. As the world responded to the coronavirus pandemic, we’d be working from home indefinitely. Lucky for us, we both have internet jobs. Still, attempting to do them while squeezed into a tiny two-bedroom apartment with a toddler began to feel impossible—and it had only been one week.
That’s when I got a text from my aunt: “Just a reminder that our house in Maine is always an option if you guys need it.”
It hadn’t dawned on me that her vacant summer home in Maine—the one built in the 1970s by my grandparents and the house I spent my childhood vacationing at—might be available for our use. They had since passed away. My aunt and uncle have kept the home up and running, but predominantly for summer use.
I had one question before we sealed the deal, “Do you think we can install high-speed internet access?” I asked my aunt.