A rocking chair sits empty on the porch.

Fog hangs in the forest in Sebago, Maine

My mother watches the sunset over Hancock Pond in Sebago, Maine

|| Sebago, Maine is a blip on the radar to most people. At the outskirts of town you’re an hour away from the nearest city, and when you’re in town you’re forty minutes from the nearest highway. Stop signs exist only when roads cross in a way that necessitates legal signage and stoplights are non-existant. Houses are spaced far apart and yards are given room to breathe. Really, living in Sebago is about living in a certain amount of solitude. Solitude is rare and replenishing; these days it isn’t often that you’re treated to clear skies, quiet nights, and unpolluted horizons. ||