Just when I thought I was getting to the point I like where I’m living now, this morning happened. No big deal really — just a foggy fall morning, but still, it sure made me miss “home.”
Typically, I get up, take my laptop and first cup of coffee to the patio room, and start my work day checking email to get things rolling before hitting the treadmill. This morning was no different — except it’s foggy. And it’s fall. My first thought was of the view I had from my house in the Ville on mornings exactly like this — a field of corn or beans with a tree-line in the distance covered in a blanket of early morning fog — a huge difference from what I see from here.
Not so long ago, my son’s ex and her friend had a conversation on Twitter poking fun at people who choose to live in the country (primarily directed at me — mentioning the “country folk,” only not in terms that kind) and insinuating that living in the city somehow makes one superior to those who live in small towns. I thought about that this morning too.
News Flash — it’s geography. I’m the same person no matter if I live in one of the best neighborhoods in a city or on a rural, dead-end road in the surrounding area of a small town. But I sure do prefer one view to the other… and I sure do miss “home.”