This is a tiny place in which I live. And my Husband is born and bred here. And these people do not like outsiders.
Some of them anyway. There are good folks like my Husband that realize there is actually a world beyond the borders of this county. Maybe even this state. A few are even commoners in foreign countries.
When I stop and think about my friends – those I can call at 3am for bail money – I realize that only a couple are actually natives to the area. Some are from a county or two away (and in this part of the country, anyway, a county might as well be another country), some are from neighboring states, and *gasp* some are from *gulp* other more northern parts of the country (or continent) *sigh.* But only a couple are natives. And I am grateful.
It’s very much a name-dropping community here.
“oh, you go to church there.”
“oh, you live near…”
“oh, your kids will go to city schools.”
Ugh. Enough already. Aren’t we all grown-ups by now? I mean, really.
Now don’t get me wrong. I like to size people up. And I do. I want to know with whom they hang. But not because I want to hang anywhere specific. Because I like to know who the social climber-wannabes are. That’s important. I’m not interested in keeping up with the Joneses. I don’t even want to be the Joneses. I’d prefer to be John Does. Leave me be and I’ll leave you be.
Because this little nook of the world is in between two larger metro (for the South) areas and it just wants to be on the map. Not just a bedroom community.
And this place is my home. I have lived here longer than I’ve lived anywhere in my whole life. And I love it. Yes, love. I have no desire to be anywhere else than this county where I can’t go anywhere without someone knowing my Husband. My handsome Husband.
And so I find it so odd to have this feeling right now. We have several different opportunities to be other places for the Independence Day holiday. And what better way to express independence than to spread our wings and fly. And boy, would I like to see people beyond the borders of this place…
But I don’t, really. I actually want to be here. Here on my little oasis. With the horses, the garden, the dock. We have some fireworks from a few years back. Won’t that count as celebrating?