Penny and I used to joke, when the kids annoyed us, that we should have had puppies rather than kids. One of us would look at the other and simply say, “Puppies.” We understood.
Moving resembles childbirth, knocking us out of our established routines and leaving us saying, “I am never doing that again!” Actually, the more I think about it, the parallels continue. Moving winds up being absurdly expensive, begins with great hopes and leads inexorably to those hopes melting away, and—at least in my case—causes back pain.
Penny and I moved over the last couple of weeks, abandoning life in the sticks and purchasing a house that’s only a half mile from where I grew up. The address is 11711 Markham Road, Independence, should you want to stalk us via Zillow. My mother lives one street over, but happily she’s not up to walking to our place.
During the lead up to the move, I’ve had a good bit of time to reflect on what I will miss and not miss about my rural life. In the interests of not grading papers, I’ve decided to share those conclusions with you.
What I will not miss
- A mile of gravel roads leading to our house. Gravel roads are tough on tires and make washing the car an exercise in futility. I will not miss the gravel.
- The ninety-foot vertical rise on our driveway, impossible in snowy weather and challenging the rest of the year.
- Needing to haul my water in by truck since the county water service did not have sufficient pressure to overcome that ninety-foot hill.
- Hedgeapples and the thorns of the hedge trees.
- A one-hour commute on normal days.
- Living twenty-five miles from my grandkids.
- The annual plague of one insect or another. We have battled caterpillars, box elders, ladybugs, carpenter bees, and, this year, crickets.
- Living near a town where fine dining means choosing between the Iron Skillet (at the truck stop) or Waffle House. Okay, this is an exaggeration, but the pickings in Oak Grove were pretty slim.
What I will miss
- The sound of whippoorwills, great horned owls, and coyotes at night.
- Not needing a wireless password or even curtains because the neighbors were nowhere near.
- Being able to burn trash, throw brush in a gully, and shoot anything smaller than a bazooka without anyone questioning it.
- People invariably saying, “Wow! This place is beautiful” when they visit.
- Spotting turkeys or deer in surprising places.
- Neighbors who pitched in to help without even being asked.
- Clear, star-filled skies
- This latest “birth” experience has disrupted our lives, leaving me, like a good, just-delivered mother, saying, “I am never moving again!” Only time will tell whether we should have opted for puppies.