When we moved to "the country," I was admittedly unsure about the situation. There are a lot of things you need in a country setting that you simply take for granted in the city--because where we live there is no sewer system, sidewalks or natural gas, to name a few. Who knew? Answer: not me. I lived in a world where I figured I knew everything and likewise, that everyone had the modern conveniences associated with living in a large city. Turns out, (gasp!) not everyone is exactly like me.
It's been a journey for me, no doubt, but I am reminded every spring and summer how much I love living in a rural area. My little city heart goes pitter patter when the tractors appear some random sunny day in the field behind our house, preparing the land for planting. I'm in some sort of child-like trance: I love watching the tractor maneuver with ease across acre after acre of land, like a choreographed dance. It's magical to think that something is being grown there that will someday land on someone's plate in some random city in America that I don't know about yet. And it all started in my little town, behind my little house, on some summer day. There is nothing more magical than the ability to see the world through a new set of eyes, ones that make you realize all the wonder there is to take in. The world, I think, is much bigger than we think.
You can imagine my giddy excitement as the little green leaves started to sprout from the ground recently. It's corn. I know that because last year it was soy beans. It always makes me smile, for reasons I can only classify as child-like. You see, I have this theory about people. We are intrigued by what we don't know--we are amazed by things we have never experienced--because it's brand new to us. That makes us feel like children, because if you know any child you know that they are genuinely amazed by everything. All the things we as adults take for granted are seen in a new way through a child's eyes, because they haven't had the chance to become jaded yet. It's a beautiful thing. That's how I feel about those fields, even today.
Sure, living out in the country isn't all sunshine and puppy dogs. Most days it's more like breezes that smell like manure and dead skunks at the end of the driveway. I have my moments, where I desperately miss the conveniences of home and the pluses of having neighbors that aren't cows or deer. But, I love having a slice of land to call my own and I treasure my privacy dearly. I'm reminded of this when I visit people who live in a neighborhood and I wonder how they deal with being so close to the house next door. It makes me feel claustrophobic, really. It's a tradeoff, choosing where you want to lay your head at night. But despite all the things I miss, I can't say that I really miss much.