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.
