American Beauty

As mentioned in my last post, we’re going to spend Saturday night in Portland, Maine. Just for fun, mostly – because its reasonably close by and supposedly a cool place. And also because it is, maybe, our destiny.

Let me fill you in: Dan and I have a running half-joke that we’re going to move to Maine. One day, far in the future, when kidlets are, presumably, in the picture. We mostly talk about Portland. Thing is: I have never been to Portland. Yet, I day-dream about living there, in an old home on some land, boiling lobsters, plucking fresh blueberries and rearing my spawn in the “simple life”.

This all started when, as you may recall, Dan and I spent a weekend away, around this same time last year, in Vermont. It was on this trip that we each admitted to the other that our secret longing is to live in the city for awhile longer, get it out of our system, then get the heck out of dodge and raise a family somewhere rural, tucked away and, preferably, abounding in natural beauty. Someplace like Vermont, except it is “too far away” (quoth Dan, the only child, whose parents live in the greater Boston area; because clearly nothing is “too far away” for me - witness: Great California Exodus of ’04).

So Maine was the next logical destination to pin our sights; due to its beauty, more rural landscape and because the Portland area is just two hours north of Boston. Portland is supposedly a good mix of small, oceanside town charm, yet still brimming with culture, history and activities. Forbes magazine ranked Portland the #1 most livable city in American in 2009. Sign me up! Oh wait, maybe I should go there, even once, first? Hence, the weekend trip - call it a scouting mission.

None of this is because I don't love Boston. I love Boston so much. But we won’t be able to afford to live within the city limits forever (if you don't already know, its best not to ask the average price per sqaure foot in these parts and spare yourself the heart palpitations) and as much as I love our condo, it was never intended to be our final resting place. Eventually, cost and space considerations lead towards, as it does for most expanding, young city families, the inevitable: a move to the suburbs.

::cue dramatic soundrack::

“Noooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!”

Okay, I kid, I kid. Sort of. I don’t hate or fear the suburbs. But, truthfully, in my heart of hearts, I don’t particularly like them. And most definitely do not look forward to going there. What is the opposite of “look forward to”? Is it dread? Yes, that’s right: I dread the suburbs. And the suburbs surrounding Boston are, for the most part, quite nice, so that isn't my hestitancy.

It’s more that, if I can’t have the real Boston, then I don't want almost-but-not-quite. I’d rather just be somewhere whole, contained within itself, with its own community and its own way of life. Someplace different and new. Not an extension of another city, among many other mostly identical extensions. Of course, I may totally change my mind, its not like we're anywhere near making this type of decision. Feel free to shake your head and laugh at me when I’m living in Westford in ten years.

All of this is to explain: we’re going to Portland this weekend. Because I haven’t ever been there, it’s supposed to be a nice place and maybe one day we’d like to move to Maine. Simple as that. Right?

Portland report to come, after the weekend. Who knows? Maybe I'll hate it.