Living in the sticks

I dropped the mail off earlier this week on Long Island. The drive was quiet. (Oh my goodness, it was cold. Perhaps that contributed to the empty roads.)

Turning onto the road to scoop up Chinese for dinner I had another little life epiphany. As a college student – perhaps it was right before – I could not see myself ever living in a suburb. I *had* to live in a city.

Having been beaten down in New York (there was only so much I could tolerate) I left. Phoenix provided the nicest change for me. Having personal space changed things for me. (So did the weather.)

But the space. I love New York. However, everything was so complicated. There was no time to enjoy the bounty of amazing things that happen there. Simple things required Herculean effort . (Ex: Getting to work without being jostled, sweated on and experiencing wild fluctuations in temperature. And it was never quick, despite being close.)

I hate owning a car. I really do. I wish transport was better in this country. But when I need something I can go get it. I no longer live in a four story walk up. There are actual closets in the spaces I inhabit. There are people I like – that like me – that I get to see without it being a big deal.

Living “in the sticks” as I always thought of a suburb isn’t the end of the world. I’m not saying it is a utopia. But the overwhelming sense of calm with space is something else for me.

Technology can bring most of what I want to be. (Be it friends and family that live far away.) Food options still abound. And, if I miss a specific aspect of culture I can drive to it.

So, there’s that. There’s snow outside. A sleeping set of parents upstairs. I’ve chatted with a few friends. Caught the news. (Ignored the dishes.) I’m off to procure my Dad’s favorite breakfast. Happy Sunday to anyone that read this 🙂

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