Everywhere we find friendship

It's very strange to move to a small town when the last 15 years of your life you have traveled from city to city. The city life. So many strange faces just hustling by you in a crowded store trying to get home or to work or anywhere but here. You will never meet them, never know them, just sense their desire for freedom from this line of overworked, underpaid rat racers. Over time, you become one. It's something you so hopefully spoke of in college that would never happen. You will never be a yuppie, never a rat racer nor a person too consumed with themselves to notice others. Then one day you are rushing into the store to buy bread and milk hoping you get the check out lady that will just do her job and not try to make small talk. Because you see, I don't have time for small talk. I don't have time to talk to you about the high prices of gas or the weather. Just ring me up and let me leave; I have other more important places I need to rush away from later. I didn't realize I was like this until we moved to this small town and people started getting on my nerves. "Hurry up!", I often found myself saying the first few weeks after our move. But over time just as the city changed me and forced me to rush, this small town is changing me too. Everyone talks to each other. I mean everyone. You can't get gas without the driver of the next car asking you "How are you liking this fall weather?" "Fine," I say, "I enjoy football and chili so this weather is a welcomed change." "Me too," is the response. We then pass a few "Have a nice days" and go about our business. The grocery store I shop at down the road reminds me of my small town Foodland store where I grew up purchasing groceries for my grandmother. She would never allow me to buy them anywhere else. They were local and friendly and knew you by name. That never seemed important to me then. It's the most important thing to me now. The bag boy places everything so neatly in the back of my car chatting about local sports and his desire to get out of here and attend college, all the while hoping for a tip for his effort. I can relate to his dreams and am not so annoyed at his need to strike up a conversation with a total stranger. That skill will be beneficial to him later in life. I notice leaves changing and sunsets. I look forward to church each Sunday and the congregation of almost 100 most of which are pushing 80. They are slow, kind and gentle. They are just as excited to see us as we are to see them. I am not annoyed, I am grateful. I no longer have a need to rush through my life, to check everything off my invisible to do list. None of that matters anymore. It will all get done in due time. So, if you come over here to visit us and you are annoyed by the slow driver in front of you, that's just me. I am in no rush and the trees look pretty today.