Today was a cranky day for me.
I'm bored, that's the simple truth.
When I get bored, I get cranky.
Cowboy gets away from this house every day.
OK, he's working, but he's not at the house, he sees live humans.
On Sunday he goes to morning and evening church services.
Yes, I could go with him, but I've never liked treating church as a social event.
If I go, I go to worship, not just as an excuse to get out of the house.
I told him if I lived in Rogersville, Morristown, or Jefferson City, I could walk places.
There isn't anything to walk to down here but a church that happens to allow people access to their playground and picnic area.
We moved to this, and I hate to call it a town.
It’s not a town.
It's a place with a lot of churches, a library, a post office, a school, a hair salon, and a handful of houses.
But we moved here because this is where Cowboy grew up, and it was the only place close to where he worked that had a K-8 school for our kids.
I didn't realize that with me not being able to drive, living twelve miles from stores, movie theaters, and real parks would get very, very tiresome.
Again, I'm super cranky today.
It was a very long Sunday, spent staring at the same four walls I've been staring at since 1997.
I grew up in a small town.
No matter which direction you walked, there was something to do.
You had a giant park with walking trails, you had stores, you had a huge library.
I hated living there because of the small‑minded people, but with age comes a longing for a life that was more exciting than counting chickens.
I'm getting off and going back to, well, counting chickens. This is going to be another very long week with nothing to do or look forward to.
And how the living heck is it already almost Easter?!
2 comments:
I was born and grew up in St. Paul with a couple of years in San Diego as a kid. We moved out here 32 years ago because I had three horses and board gets expensive. Little did I know how expensive my having room for many horses would get! It was all good while I ran the business but once I stopped I became alone. I don't fit in here, even after all this time. It's very tribal in this area. If I didn't have the horses I'd move back to St. Paul. All this to say I understand what you are feeling. Blogging does give me interaction.
Sandra: That’s a big shift in places to grow up. St. Paul and San Diego are such different worlds, and I can see how that kind of mix would shape how you see home and community.
I understand moving for the animals. They have a way of deciding where we live, whether we meant for that to happen or not. When you’ve got them, you go where they can be cared for.
And I get what you mean about the cost. What works during the busy seasons of life can feel completely different once the pace changes. That kind of quiet can turn into loneliness fast.
I also understand not fitting in. Some places never really open up, no matter how long you’ve lived there. You can be somewhere for decades and still feel like you’re standing outside a circle that was closed long before you arrived.
It makes sense that you’d feel pulled back toward St. Paul. It’s hard when the thing you love also ties you to a place that doesn’t always feel like it fits.
Thank you for saying you understand what I’m feeling. It helps to hear it from someone who’s lived the same kind of disconnect instead of just guessing.
Blogging helps me too. It’s a small corner where people actually talk back and understand what you’re saying. It’s not the same as having neighbors who feel like your people, but it’s still real connection, and I’m grateful for it.
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