Tonight I walked to the A-Town post office to mail a letter. No, it wasn’t quite as romantic as that. It was a bill. I needed to pay for our cheap Wall Street Journal subscription or else lose out on the deal. At any rate, it presented a good excuse to take a stroll in the cool summer evening air. I took my time, striding slowly, but purposefully, 2 blocks to the small brick building that is our village snail-mail center.It is, by far, the most modest edifice in the Courthouse Square. Have I romanticized about the A-Town Square here before? I’m sure I have. I can’t help it. Even though I keep learning (against my wistful wishes, but consistent with my condition as a grown-up capable of doing my part) about the sadder, seedier side of this place and its people—nevertheless, my heart swells with affection for her. I love living here.
Maybe I would love living elsewhere too. But it doesn’t seem to be my destiny to leave this place. Will never wants to move—Ever Again—if we can help it. (Not that we relocated all that often in the past, but our first 6 years together, we did occupy 4 residences—not counting the 2 weeks we lived at my sister’s house, between apartments.) Some folks are more prone to wander, I think—not just spiritually, but geographically. “Wanderlust,” I think it’s called. We don’t have that. I suspect I might have as a younger woman. I can imagine myself, 15 years ago, pining to experience life in all 4 time zones of the continental 48, plus at least 3 foreign countries. But not anymore—at least, not now.
A-Town is my Home, Sweet, Home. And I intend to keep trying to make it sweeter—not by consuming as much Reese’s Puffs cereal and Mint Ting-a-ling ice cream as one can unreasonably ingest in 2 days’ time (although, to the outside observer, that might have appeared to be my weekend’s goal). No, I repent of that ill-fated attempt to fix the problems of my heart, my town and the world all around. I will combat bitterness and strife with the peace of Christ. He’s the only Way I know.
4 comments:
You, my friend, have a way with words!
I am glad that you love your hometown and are content to live there forever. That is a good thing! It gives you ROOTS! Our family lacks roots -- no place for our kids to get married and no place for us to be buried. But "wanderlust" is far from the truth of our wanderings all over the continent! It is more like the desire to move up, to improve one's situation, to have a better/more challenging job with greater responsibility. And, in all of it, we can see God's hand. Even when the job was not what was expected; it was a stepping stone to something far better. All this is a story I must write someday... but not today... Today I must play (then blog) with my grandchildren! :)
I love this, though I struggle with my own wanderlust affliction. I've lived in towns I adored, but I've lived six years in a town that I seem to observe, as though I'm an outsider looking through a picture window. It's hard to find your feet when you never feel a part of things. And it's hard to feel a part of things when you're always wondering what the heck everyone is doing. How can towns be so different? Why do we feel at home in one and distant in another? I wonder ... and wander ...
This post filled me with such a feeling of peace that is slightly tinged with jealous. I wish I could achieve that feeling of home-ness in A-town that you feel. I know that a part of me is grounded there forever, but I sense it as a burden rather than an anchor. Reading your thoughts helps, though. Seeing A-town through your eyes is a wonderful perspective-keeper.
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