Some people mistakenly think I don't cry much. I may not be the most fuzzy person, I am not a hugger in general, I hate sappy movies, but I feel deeply. I also have a strange attachment to objects- but not all objects. When I moved here from Florida I through out my wedding dress. Why would I keep it? It takes up a lot of space and I have two boys. Out it went without a tear shed. The old beat-up gas-guzzler that my husband finally got rid of? When it was being towed away I cried like a baby. I thought the car would be sad that we didn't want it anymore. See? Only some things make me cry and it comes down to two objects- houses and cars. Other things can make me nostalgic of course, a baby onesie, an old picture, but houses and cars have feelings darn it! Don't they?
So here we are, getting ready to move. I am puddled on the floor, caressing the door jambs, looking at where my child once toddled and is now a bright and happy four year old. It is hard for me to say goodbye and leave those memories behind. I know intellectually that all of those memories can't be recreated by brick and mortar, that they live forever in my mind better than any picture can capture. I can still smell the crisp leaves of autumn when we trick or treated down the street here in Knights Landing. I will always know the scent of the river where we spent summer's swimming and fishing and meeting friends. In some ways, as time passes the memories lose some harshness, a rosy tint takes it's place, and there is a fondness that grows that may have little or no basis in reality.
I had never really lived in a small town before moving here to be close to my mother in law and father in law. I didn't conceive how a town so tiny could survive and "be" something. Like an organism, it lives. More so than any suburban development with fake saccharin waves, more so than any anonymous big city where you could, theoretically, give everyone the finger and nobody is the wiser. You don't exist except to who you let into your life. In a small town you exist to everyone.
There are good sides to this, and of course some famous bad sides. I think the, hmmm, should I go here? Yes, I will. I think the liberal elite who drink overpriced coffee and bemoan capitalist pigs and seem to want to fight for the underdog (as long as that person doesn't live in the United States that is) doesn't get small town America. They live in a cocoon and eat pho but bemoan country music. The peasants of other countries are much more romantic. But there is a romanticism in small town America. There is a culture that is unique, lively and lovely all at the same time. You just have to slow down and recognize it.
Never before have I actually seen, with my own eyes, pure community. When one is sick, they are taken to the doctor by someone. Not family, perhaps not friends, but if you are in trouble here in small town, USA, you will be taken care of. You will be fed, you will be clothed, and you will have somewhere to turn. It is a given. I am not against the idea of communism, just the force of it. As we alienate a culture that is still surviving in little hamlets across the country, we miss an opportunity to see humanity in its best form. Spaghetti dinners and country music aside, watch and see the true sense of love and community that exists and that as a city or suburb dweller, you haven't ever seen before.
That is the good side and with that comes a bad side that is equal to the good. There is boredom and gossip, mostly unfounded but it's much more fun that way. If someone isn't talking about someone, it is akin to the cable being out. It is a shock to people who didn't grow up this way and respected privacy above all else. It feels like peeping in their windows and it comes naturally to some. Life as a gossip isn't as much fun if you speculate or give the benefit of the doubt. There is good said about people of course, but again, good information isn't much fun, sort of like if the Real Housewives of New York got along. Boring! It's a side effect of being close, to know everyone, to have something to chat over instead of the morning newspaper. Since everyone is talked about equally, there is some solace to be found that while they gossip, they love you still.
The little town I am leaving has been good to me. It has brought me closer to what is important in this world and showed me things about what it means to love your neighbor, to be real, to stop hiding behind pretense, that a smile is worth more than gold. I was once something, I am now something else and through my experience, I feel I am no doubt a better person. My kids are too. They began loving and forming friendships with people of all races, ages and class. I hope their openness stays with them always. To them, we certainly live in Mr.Rogers neighborhood. We walk to the post office, to school, to the library, to the store, to the river and doggone it, we know everyone with a smile and a wave.
So here I am, with a heavy heart saying goodbye to a fascinating, difficult, lovely, chapter of my life. We are moving south, close to my husbands work. I chose another small town. You will probably never see me in a large city, a medium city, or even a large town. I like this life, and I found what makes me thrive. I did, however, choose a town with three restaurants and a grocery store.
To all of my friends and neighbors, it is never goodbye but a see you later. I will miss you, you will stay in my heart always, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.
