Small towns, gotta love them

I was just in town, had to visit the grocery store, visit the post office, etc.    As usual, I ran into someone I knew, chatted for a minute, then we went our separate ways.  It's very unusual for me to go to town and not run into someone I know, and we always say hello.  So different from where I used to live, I rarely, as in count on one hand, ran into people I knew there.  And even if I did, the only exchange was a curt nod, an acknowledgement that you were seen, if you were lucky.   Or if you knew the person well, they were usually in a hurry to get done and go somewhere. 

   I needed to go to the post office next, and as I'm driving there, I spotted a young bear, just meandering across the road, taking his/her sweet time about crossing.   I was about a half a block away, and before I could liberate my camera from underneath the groceries on the front seat, it was gone.  Now, this wasn't really on the outskirts of town, this was a half block off of what would be Main street in most towns.  But we do abut a large forest, and it's not uncommon for bears to come into town for a snack.   Especially if it's garbage day.  

But as I was getting my mail, it made me think of a couple of instances where living in a small town was really great.   When we first moved here, before we really knew anyone, our mail was delivered and one of the letters came postage due.  Well, the mail person left a note, saying that we owed the post office some 30 cents or so, not a lot of money, but she had gone ahead and delivered the mail anyways.    I had to go into town a day or so later, and I stopped at the post office and showed the postmaster the note and said I owed someone 30 cents.   You know, he wasn't even surprised that I made the effort to pay it.   And then there was the time I accidentally put a letter in the box outside and forgot to put a stamp on it.  I realized it as soon as I dropped it in, so I went inside, told them what I had done and purchased a stamp, knowing that it would be affixed and my mail would go out.   

There are many pluses and a few minus' to living in a small community, but I don't think I could go back to living in anonymity any more.   I like it here.   

Anchors, the good kind

So I'm lying in bed the other night, thoughts swirling around, and then memories started surfacing, and I had fun ping ponging around in my mind and memories.   Some of the images that were brought to mind, brought other remembrances to the forefront and then I started tracing some of those thoughts, memories and images back.  

What can I say, I have trouble falling asleep right away, I think they call it insomnia, but I call it FREE TIME, cause I can think, with no distractions.  Well, apart from the dog having chasing dreams and yipping in her sleep or the bird muttering to herself in her cage or my DH snoring away.   But I can tune all them out and just think.

Which is sometimes a good thing.  And sometimes not.  

This particular night I was thinking over a conversation I had with a friend about another mutual friend and it was not gossip, really.   We were both talking about the fact that our mutual friend and her husband had sailed around the world, in fact they've spent most of their married life on a sailboat, sailing where ever they wanted to go.   And it made me think.   I said I wasn't that adventuresome, I need an anchor, a place to call my own,  to go back to, or leave from.   And I've had that for most of my life.  Which means I could fly without worry, could explore, experience, learn knowing I would always have a place I could go to.    I've actually done a lot of stuff most people would not have done.

When I was twenty I moved to Europe and spend a few months in my birth country, I got to see so much of it, and I regret now that I did not explore more, but while there I did get to see a little of a few other countries.   However, I always knew I could go back 'home'.  

I left my family behind and moved to another country when I got married in my early twenties.   In retrospect I'm surprised at myself, but my family gave me the stability and love and support that meant I could do just that.  I didn't need to move away to get away, I knew I could always go back.   Maybe not to my childhood home or a physical home per se, but to family.  I still had an anchor.

Then circumstances happened that meant we could become snowbirds while still in our forties.   I was able to leave my home and go to another state and stay there for months at a time, because I knew I had my home to return to.  Again, an anchor. 

Then as life happens, we finally embarked on a journey where we didn't know where we would end up.   We sold our house, and lived full time in an RV for a few years.  I had no anchor, well, not a physical one.   I knew if I had to, I could go back to my family, and for a long time that was good.  I still had an anchor that while not a physical one, it was a loving one.  

And now I'm anchored with not only a house but have the freedom to continue to explore, when I choose.  Not a bad thing, all in all.