Saturday, April 21, 2012

She's Gone Country...

Most of you know, and maybe some of you don't believe, I grew up in the "country." Don't laugh. Not back-woods-toothless-barefootandpregnant-country. It was more like hospitality-repsectyourelders-okayyesdirtroads-country.

We had gravel roads to our house. It took me 20 minutes to get to school, and not because of traffic. Unless you count the combines. When you drive by, passing drivers wave. Really busy ones give you the finger. No, not that finger, the one finger wave. I remember asking my dad when I was younger, why he waved at everyone. You can pretty much assume he knows everyone, but what he said was very important. You never know when a stranger could be a friend, or if you were in some kind of trouble, if you are nice and respectful to people, they will help you.

As a teenager, I couldn't wait to get out of there. I wanted to be "free" from all of it. Everyone knowing your business, no where cool to shop, and I wanted to see what else was out there.

Even up until recently, if you asked me if I would ever move back, I would laugh and say no way. But today, today I miss it. I miss not having neighbors to worry about, leaving your doors unlocked, church with the same small group of people you've been praising God with your entire life. I miss the closeness and warmth that the "country" offers.

And sending Callie to kindergarten at a school that has SIX kindergarten classes? Don't even get me started. It seems too big, too impersonal, and I wish I could send her to a much smaller school. The school I attended was a K-12 school. I went to the same school my entire life, with pretty much the same group of 35 or so kids. Like brothers and sisters to me. I wish she could have that.

Who knows if I'd actually really be happy there. I might have been in the "city" life too long. Two minutes to Target, Hy-Vee up the street, no gravel roads, a million restaurants and shops.... I probably couldn't really do it. And my husband is soooo not a country boy. He wouldn't last a day in the field, or standing it cow poop fixing fences, and he's terrified of horses. Needless to say, I know living on a farm will never happen for us.  But thank God I still have home. Or what I call home. My dad's farm has everything that gives me a bit of comfort.

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