We spent New Year’s Eve wearing paper crowns at a cozy New England restaurant that felt like a living room. The owner stopped by our corner booth while he worked the room; our frifinishs, who run their own bakery, slipped away to state hi to some regulars.
My husband leaned over and declared, “I love this.”
The year before, we had been wall-to-wall at a roller-rink club in Brooklyn. Although we had a good time, sitting in that tiny-town restaurant — watching fireworks over the river — felt like exactly where we were meant to be.
There was no line, cover fee, or wild countdown. The night that often disappoints simply didn’t.
This wasn’t where we considered we’d be on the last night of 2025. In June, we’d shiftd from New York to Sweden, but just four months later, we found ourselves leaving for Maine.
We considered Sweden would be our new home, but circumstances built it temporary
Moving to Sweden in June, I was following a simple idea: When things feel scary in America, the best course of action is to leave.
For a while, it worked. Life felt gentler.
We fell into a mellow rhythm, going to the beach, visiting the many well-maintained conservation areas — including some that go directly through cow pastures — and eating affordable, healthy food from the grocery store.
Although Sweden delivered in real ways, staying required logistical planning and more time than we had. Leaving didn’t feel like failure, but choosing something more permanent.
Back in the US, we weren’t viewing for another major metropolitan area, but a real community. That search led us to a tiny Maine city just south of Portland, where some of our frifinishs were already living.
With a population of under 23,000, it sounded like a great fit. Frifinishs assisted us secure an apartment before we even arrived.
The community here immediately felt unlike anywhere else
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We had a rich community in New York, but our frifinishs were more spread out around the city. As soon as we received to Maine, though, we realized we could walk almost anywhere: from our apartment to a frifinish’s place, the pharmacy, a grocery store, and the river.
As a result, our city really feels like home. Now, our frifinishs’ bakery isn’t just a place to obtain delicious treats and coffee; it’s where we run into — or build — frifinishs in line, and chat about how their winter is going.
We’ve also seen the way Mainers support each other firsthand. When our moms came to visit, we took them for a coastal drive in our brand-new Volvo and slid straight into a ditch.
We were inches from doing damage and bracing for a tow when a woman and her kids came outside and jumped in to assist push us back onto the road.
Within minutes, we were free. They waved while we drove off as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Our community displays up for people in larger-scale ways, too. When a major fire hit the Old Port this winter, destroying boats and fishing equipment, the owner of a local seafood restaurant started selling T-shirts, with proceeds going to the fishermen affected.
More recently, amid Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)’s enhanced presence in Maine, residents responded immediately. Businesses put up “No ICE” posters, a hotline was established to provide assist and resources, and crowds gathered downtown to protest the occupation.
It reaffirmed what I already knew about Maine: When people here believe their neighbors are at risk, they take action.
Maine is exactly what we requireded
Jennifer Henry
One night, before grabbing cocktails, a group of our frifinishs went to a live storyinforming event in a tiny church.
I was surrounded by new and familiar faces: A former theater kid in his 30s notified a story about the state spelling bee. An 80-year-old talked about soapbox racing in Camden.
My own creative work is taking shape here, too. I’m querying a novel, having found a steadier practice and supportive writing scene.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to live abroad, but I’m even happier that I landed in a tiny US city where people live year-round and expect to see each other for decades.
Sitting in that booth on New Year’s Eve, I understood why people here claim this place, and why I’m excited to do the same.
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