This is the view from the bench in front of my house. The street I live on is one of the main arteries running through the city.
The street is busy.
And when I sit outside and watch the world drive by I can’t help but reflect on the path my life has taken. After all, it wasn’t more than five years ago when I was living the serene life–in a 2 1/2 story house and two story barn situated on several acres of land that butted up against state land. It was private and quiet and as slow paced as it gets.
I thought that was what I wanted. I grew up in the countryside in the beautiful state of Missouri and even though I had relocated as a teenager to a city in the west, I never lost the country girl inside.
But then my ex-husband and I moved to our beautiful home outside of the city (I won’t call it the countryside because this is the desert…where the only differences between the city and not the city are traffic and pavement. There’s still no vegetation, water, or actual wildlife to speak of.)
For seven years I sat on the front porch every morning, drinking coffee and watching the rabbits and deer and feeling peaceful. On the outside.
But on the inside I felt hollow. Like a shell of a person. Because even though I loved the peace and quiet of living outside the city, I never felt more isolated and alone than I did in those seven years.
Now, I live right in the heart of this city and I complain about noise and pollution and lack of privacy. But I have to say that I rarely feel a deep loneliness anymore.
I’m finally connected to the world around me.
This is my street–busy, loud, and constant.