As much as I like a change to a routine, I really like consistency too. So I'm now determined to make this my consistency. My goal: to write at least once a week. And, I'm starting now by blogging about a return to a place where you can fall right back into a routine - a way of life - that you once left.
A few weeks ago, I returned to Indiana to stand beside one of my closest friends as she got married, which is obviously a very special honor. But before I journeyed north a few hours for the shin-dig, I spent a few much-needed days at my old home, falling right back into the comfortable niche of small-town, country life.
As soon as you enter the county and then the city limits, it's almost as if you are transported back to the time when you lived there. It becomes simple again. And I, for one, fall right back into the cozy routine that has always been there. A few things are different, but the mind-set is the same. Driving down the main highway, I spotted some God-awful, bright yellow rocking chairs on a porch and immediately wonder who thought that would be a good idea. I couldn't fathom why someone would tarnish my cute, little town with those hideous monstrosities on their porch. That, folks, is a prime example, of the little country town mind set - that sense of connection to everything in the town.
I continued on, speeding down the country back roads. They are those familiar roads that you just have to drive fast on, hugging the curves of the hills that you know like the back of your hand. Then, you pull out of that blind curve to come face to face with a Sheriff's cruiser, which I never thought twice of before. But, suddenly, I remember, I'm driving in a car that those deputies don't recognize anymore with Texas plates, which look suspiciously similar to Ohio plates. And let's face it...a Buckeye on Indiana backroads is a red flag to a deputy. I may as well have had a flashing, neon sign coming out of my sunroof saying "GIVE ME A TICKET!" Luckily for me, the deputies in that quiet town still have no desire to write tickets.
One routine that I didn't fall back into seamlessly was the one that gives the ability to spot a deer near the road from a mile away. I lost my deer-dar. You know, that's like radar, but for deer. I'm clever, I know. Those extremely sneaky, ridiculously stupid animals sneak out of the corn fields just as you reach that point when it won't really matter if you slam on your brakes - if they decide to jump at you, they're committing vehicular suicide.
But, hey, at least they go out with a great view of the stars. Oh, those stars. That's definitely one thing I miss by living in the city. You can see every single star in the night sky. The only thing that makes a clear night sky better? Having a bon fire, especially with one of your best friends on a crisp, fall night. You know, the kind that you need to wear a warm sweatshirt to be comfortable. That is the epitome of a night in small town America.
For me, a typical Sunday in that same area is watching football with Dad, and falling asleep on the couch. It never fails. I can be wide awake, talking and alert, and before the second quarter, I pass out. It's just a given.
The most consistent parts of home are the familiar faces - family and those friends that are so close they are family. They're the kind that you can go years without talking to them regularly, but you can catch up with them one night and it's like you never missed a day. They're the kind that know not to knock on the door, but just walk in, instead. They're the ones that fit into the family, easily.
There are certain things that never change in small town America. Those are the things I love the most about it. And it just goes to show, you can always go home. Just don't speed too much with out-of-state license plates.
Oh, and the wedding was beautiful! Congrats to the new Mr. and Mrs. Undercoffer :)
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