I have dear friends out there and I don't see enough of them. I go to church near there, but I'm not there often enough.
We are the only ones up here in the shadow of the Big City, thanks to the music biz. While I love my neighbourhood, I crave the country, I miss my mom and dad (Yes I know I'm 38 but they're really cool people and you'd want to see them too if they were yours) and I need to get out there regularly.
It's hard to explain to people who don't have that need for the wideness of the sky.
It's hard to explain to people who don't have that strong family connection.
It can be hard to explain that roots run deep.
Honestly, my little patch of suburbia is heavenly. I'm sitting on my deck right now, listening to birds singing away and bugs and my crazy pug barking at shadows. I always said if I had to live in town, it's gotta be here.
But I really love being in the country. I just love it. I feel right when I'm out there. I feel like I can breathe.
The barn at the family farm has names and dates written in the cement. Most of them are relatives of mine.
I have a goal. My husband and I share that goal. We want a farm of our own. We want room for the horses to graze, places to train and trail ride, and drive a 4 wheeler. We want a John Deere tractor to do work type stuff. I want a couple of chickens and a big vegetable garden. Room for friends to stay the weekend.
We want a recording studio in a barn, man!
We know what we want and that getting it won't be an instant step, but a continuation of the steps already taken. We also know that the next year will be really different from the last twelve. This is not going like we expected it would. I always pictured breaking the news of our departure to our friends in town by showing them pictures of our new farm and telling them we're getting what we've always wanted. That'll have to wait just a little longer.
We moved into this house almost exactly twelve years ago, and now more than ever, we've got a foot in each world.
I'm not gone yet... but I'm leaving.