The Thing About My Town

    Everyone seems to know everyone else and their business. Landmarks like: across from the old white silo, just past the big white barn that got moved, and you know, where that field fire burned recently are used and recognized. Teaching all thirty years in the same town, eventually having former students sitting across from me at parent teacher conferences, their son or daughter, now my student beside them…well, it makes for a unique, once in a lifetime sense of belonging. 

    I’ve lived in “The Old Lovette” homestead now coming on fourteen years. It’s longer than I have ever lived in one place my entire life. In our little town, when my husband and I walk about during the much loved yearly festivals, my name is called out as we pass by folks of all ages. One year, as we went into the fair on a hot summer evening, Chad straightened his fancy tuxedo t-shirt (thanks, Katie) and announced he was ready to fight off my paparazzi. Before my dismissive scoff had fully completed, from out of the blue sky and the screaming mouths of a group of teens on the ferris wheel, my name came barreling our way. As Chad bought our tickets, I waved exuberantly toward the big wheel, my smile honest and true.

            

    We thought about moving a few years ago. We looked for almost two years, and even put in a half-hearted offer or two on newer homes, located conveniently close to riding trails and more off the beaten track; but each time we would return home, bask in a new sunrise or sundown, or be acknowledged with beeping horns and hellos stolen by the wind as vehicles sped by our home, and we knew. There was simply no way to replace what we have built here together. 

            

    That’s the thing about my town. It wraps you in its people, shows you its heart, and makes you want to stay. It makes you want to fight for what is good and fight to make it better. It is a good place to live our lives together.