Teefefe – 74 Years In And I Havent Killed Him Yet Anniversary Wedding T-Shirt

 Eight years ago, before we had kids, my spouse and I left our city of 8.5 million humans and moved to a very small island off the coast of Maine. We had no family members in Maine, and neither one of us had been offered a job. That Maine is called “the Pine Tree State” motivated our decision to leave New York more than anything. Our main objective in replanting ourselves in a place with more trees than humans was so that we could live at a much slower tempo, an existence closer to off-the-grid than flashing billboards. We weren’t fleeing from anything; we were chasing isolation. I’d experienced deep trauma a couple years before and yearned for something I could proclaim “a fresh start.” I wanted my healing to begin surrounded by nature and away from people. We found a cheap rental and signed a lease. The island was only accessible by boat. It had wild deer, and there was a peach tree in our backyard. We just wanted to be alone. An island was ideal. We thought we were trailblazers. Back to the landers. Survivalists.

Most roads on our island are gravel and not all the streets have signs. One of the first purchases after our arrival was a GPS tracker for our dogs’ collars. We developed a ritual: Each morning, my husband and I walked to the woods and let the pups loose. If they strayed far during our hike, two moving red dots on our smartphones indicated their location. We’d take our time in tracking them down, savoring the moments in the forest bath. By day, we both worked from home by a wood stove; our evenings were capped by a long stroll down Centennial, a sandy beach a few blocks away often void of humans. We felt invisible and fresh. I sunbathed topless in our backyard. We started composting. I bought a book on how to raise chickens and planned to learn some bushcrafting skills, but then one day I felt nauseous and a whole new reality showed up: I was pregnant. Only then did I begin to feel alone, and afraid. I had no idea how unsettled I really was— no close relationships with my neighbors, no idea what the internal rhythm of this community was. I knew no other parents, had no idea what happens when you’re pregnant and go into labor on an island.

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