City

I used to live in the big city. Phoenix is a pretty big city (especially now, but back in the 70s it was still huge).

I am distracted while writing this. It’s a beautiful morning, cool, crisp, windows open, and I already ran my errands and all I need to do is go to work this afternoon. Writing is a luxury I don’t always get to do and I’m loving it.

The distraction is my daughter talking to me, which is completely alright with me.

So, I’m adding a bit of time to the Five Minutes this Friday because of that.

And outside the children in the field over to the east are running and playing with their dog. Out to the west the highway traffic is low, then loud, then quiet. To the south a cardinal is scolding a cat and the cicadas are singing, vibrating, and creating a high-pitched, sometimes annoying symphony. To the north the railroad tracks await the afternoon train as a private plane soars beneath the high-altitude clouds.

And I think, why would I ever want to move back to the big city where it’s noisy and dirty and cramped and your neighbors know what you are doing and crawl over your wall to kill birds or cats or trees they think are not city approved or dangerous to the neighborhood, or where your personal flag out front is ripped up or stolen and the family down the street has fights loud enough to register on a scale in space.

The city was a fantastic place for restaurants, concerts, beaches (yes, even in Phoenix), parks and tons of activities. But the freedom of purchase always outweighed income, and freedom quickly became very expensive.

I have been blessed to be allowed to live in the country; a space that reminds me of my laid-back days at my grandmother’s house; a space that changes year by year, season by season; a space with infinite possibilities and second chances.

Thank You, Father.

~

Random note: My daughter said my super power is essential oils.