small town

“The nice part about living in a small town is that when you don't know what you're doing, someone else does”

some may find the truth of this quote disturbing - but in this stage of my life, i find it strangely comforting.

when the news of my pending divorce leached out this past spring, i initially wished i lived in a huge city, with Anonymity my friend. i wished i were cloaked in a Metropolis, where the hustle and bustle, cacophony and commotion would drown out the noise from my life.
Wouldn't it be dandy to quickly walk through this "D" chapter unnoticed, or skip it entirely? if i lived in New York City, i would walk to Times Square where strangers would smile and nod and speak and have no idea that my life had fallen completely apart.

in a small town, news travels like wildfire. my husband and i separated on a friday. two days later, we were on a dozen church prayer lists. it's not that we didn't desire prayer, we just wanted a little private space to regain out footing. he shared with his friends, i shared with my friends, our three sons shared with their friends - the news could not be contained and spread faster than the H1N1 virus in this small town.
i hated that at first, but not now.

last night, i was driving down rte 23 through my hometown of waverly. the street lights were making stars on the snow and ice. the familiarity of buildings, places, farms and fences, people, memories brought waves of warm solace...a crystallizing moment, i think. the town itself was embracing me, reminding me of who i am, and affirming my inclination to hope and trust and believe.

when it is all said and done, i like the sense of belonging that i feel in my town, people knowing me and caring about me. along with the back fence talk and meddling, i have found genuine concern and understanding that have helped me weather this storm.

i am glad i live here, at least for now.