At first, I didn't want to move to a small town. I like the feeling of things "happening." I love to spend solitary time, but with the hum of activity just out the door and around the corner.
I think I've always been like that.
I remember loving when I could hear my parents' friends or small groups over when I was trying to fall asleep (or, more likely trying not to fall asleep).
I remember loving hearing the noise of traffic through my bedroom window.
I liked the glow of streetlights too, because that meant we were on a busy enough street to warrant those lights.
So when we decided to move to this small town, I was hesitant.
That now seems ridiculous.
The small town we're in is one of the most coveted places to live, no exaggeration, in Canada.
And I'm experiencing why every day.
The hum of activity is literally just out our door and around the corner. My walk with Huck this morning will serve as evidence of the sweeter-than-sweet life we are privileged to be living these days.
First, we stopped by the local church to drop off some unneeded clothing items in the big blue bin. I've noticed I'm more likely to do that when it's a 3-minute walk away than when the car becomes involved.
Second, we considered stopping at the local chocolate shop for a mocha. But when I realized it was only 11am I decided I should wait at least 1 hour before consuming my first chocolate for the day.
Third, we were magnetically pulled into the local antique store. More accurately, one of the local antique stores. There are 5 or 6. While inside, 2 small dogs ran half-way up my leg. It's okay, though - small town dogs are allowed in stores because they are innately friendly. Like the store owner, who oohed and aahed over Huck's eyelashes. We found a connection point by sharing in the common unfairness of a world where boys so often get nicer eyelashes than girls. Also, they were filming a movie in the back of her shop, so there was much to talk about.
Fourth, we stopped to get mail at the post office. Nothing with our name on it today, but there's something precious about needing to walk to get your mail. Sometimes I wish emails were a little less accessible like that. Don't you?
Between the fourth and the fifth thing, Huck and I turned to watch the train scratch its way noisily through town... as it does every 12 minutes or so. It seems like 12 minutes... And I promise that I'm only exaggerating by half an hour at the most.
Anyways, fifth, we stopped in to the local bakery, which was recently sold, closed, and reopened within 4 days. I am keenly hopeful that this new baker will have also gone to the school where they teach bakers how to fold dough into these beautiful, sugary pockets and stuff them with strawberries and rhubarb. We'll see.
Sixth, and finally, I peeked through the window at the "Growcer" to see if he was working today. He wasn't. But if he was, I was going to tell him that I saw a poster about a cat. He told me a few weeks ago that he lost his cat during a local festival, and he was very sad about it. While walking by the river a few days ago, I saw a poster: "Found Cat." I think he should know, just in case.
So, we returned back around the corner, and through the door.