Where should we live if the commuter rail means nothing anymore?

I voted. Crossed all my fingers and toes. Said a prayer. Internally swore at some Drump flags. Put on some hand sanitizer. Said another prayer. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don’t make me google how to get Canadian citizenship again.

The pandemic has me feeling unmoored. Why do we live here? Why this town? If Captain may never return to his office. We could live anywhere.

Our lives used to revolve around the commuter rail to Boston. It dictated wake-up time, meal times and pick ups and drop offs. Now wake up time is determined by two little people’s internal clocks and meals are dictated by me yelling from the kitchen or BB having a complete meltdown and yelling from wherever. Whichever one comes first.

After another day of Captain feeling grumbly about our living situation, I press the moving question. Are we sure we want to be here?

He gestures to the deck under construction,

“And leave this?”

Yes, it would be hard to leave the part of the deck that is finished. But the plywood part? I’m sure that can be recreated.

Or Captain could just move his home office. Right now it’s adjacent to the kitchen. I can imagine a few other places in the house that would be quieter. Really anywhere else.

He turns the question around to me. Big picture, I’m happy here. We’re close to Boston, the Y and Target. I may go to those places again someday.

I love our yard and our neighborhood. Even if the next-door neighbors now have COVID and Captain may never let BB play with anyone ever again.

Faced with no vastly superior options, we could be here another 17 years. Either that or Canada.

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