Friday
Its about 6:30pm in my old hometown. My boys are playing in the yard, my girls are off walking around Dufresne's Park and Clancy and I are sitting here in the shade of a tree. Its absolutely perfect weather-wise. A light breeze is blowing the tops of the trees and the sound of the leaves brushing against each other is at once soothing and comforting.
I went to the old homestead in Springfield today to finish up some things. Not sure when they moved the houses so close together, but I swear it wasn't that cramped when I lived there. Tiny yards and cars lined up all along the side of the streets. Kids playing on the sidewalks, people walking their dogs. Radios playing music I never really understood or liked. The bus squealing to a stop and the on and off boarding rituals. Strange how all of these things were the backdrop to our lives for so long and already they seem foreign to me again. The drive on the highway there seemed to take longer than it ever has. Springfield never seemed so far away as it has these past few days.
Its not that I didn't care for our old neighborhood. In fact, there are lots of things we'll miss. The small store up the street that is owned and operated by two of the nicest people I met in that city. I will miss the access to downtown and the great restaurants within minutes. Sushi delivered right to the door and Red Rose Pizza. Springfield has a bad wrap and a lot of it isn't deserved. I highly recommend Shekago's Martini Bar - its fantastic and cozy and classy. The art on the walls, the live music and the best cosmopolitan you can buy. The reporters on the 11 o'clock news need to leave the two neighborhoods making all the headlines. There are thousands of terrific people in Springfield doing wonderful things. City life for this country girl just wasn't something I was able to settle into.
Granby is.... Granby is green. I know that sounds obvious but I don't think the locals really see how green it is. Driving to our new home I am surrounded by green. And not all tidy, well manicured lawns. I mean huge trees, fields and pastures allowed to grow and escape a human footprint. Crops. Tractors. Horses grazing and cows. No strategically placed boulders and rock gardens... just Mother Nature's touch.
And the roads are so narrow and winding. I had forgotten about that too. My driving in town for the past fifteen years or so has been pretty limited to East Street, Pleasant Street and Route 202. Once you leave these streets, the roads sort of close in a bit and the trees curl over you. My three year old sons are in a persistent state of awe. Every curve and sway brings more "Mommy! Its a tunnel! Its a forest!" I had no idea I had raised such city kids. Odd for a small town girl like me to realize. Seth thought the cows were elephants. And that we were visiting a very large zoo.
People ask me how I like the new place and if we're settled in yet. I tell them how much we love it here, how happy everyone is to be here. But you know, I didn't really have to do much settling. It really wasn't hard to get used to the quiet nights and the crickets. I felt just fine about the lack of sidewalks and streetlights every ten feet. I didn't feel the need to grieve the loss of traveling three highways to get to work. And when it took all of four minutes to get a prescription filled at Center Pharmacy but an hour to leave the store, I really didn't mind that either. I certainly was fine with the clip clop of horses walking by my window the other morning.
Granby is the kind of place where folks who grew up here and move on tend to respond to the "Where are you from?" question with, "Granby. Well, I grew up there but now I live in..." You just never shake it off, not all the way. You carry with you the halls of the high school and Aldrich Lake, certain family names that have been here since the beginning, farm stands and tire swings. You carry with you the distinct sounds of walking down an empty trail, the chirping of the birds and the hum of far off tractors. The thudding of a horse hoof and the creak of an old Western saddle. You carry with you the scent of a hay field and freshly mowed lawns. Crunching of the snow as you navigate Taylor Street after a January storm. You carry these things with you. And it seems that no matter how far away you go, how long you stay away, when you come back they all come rushing to the forefront of your memory with a pleasant and surprising hello.
They say you can never go home again. Well, maybe not.
Or maybe I just never really left in the first place?
I went to the old homestead in Springfield today to finish up some things. Not sure when they moved the houses so close together, but I swear it wasn't that cramped when I lived there. Tiny yards and cars lined up all along the side of the streets. Kids playing on the sidewalks, people walking their dogs. Radios playing music I never really understood or liked. The bus squealing to a stop and the on and off boarding rituals. Strange how all of these things were the backdrop to our lives for so long and already they seem foreign to me again. The drive on the highway there seemed to take longer than it ever has. Springfield never seemed so far away as it has these past few days.
Its not that I didn't care for our old neighborhood. In fact, there are lots of things we'll miss. The small store up the street that is owned and operated by two of the nicest people I met in that city. I will miss the access to downtown and the great restaurants within minutes. Sushi delivered right to the door and Red Rose Pizza. Springfield has a bad wrap and a lot of it isn't deserved. I highly recommend Shekago's Martini Bar - its fantastic and cozy and classy. The art on the walls, the live music and the best cosmopolitan you can buy. The reporters on the 11 o'clock news need to leave the two neighborhoods making all the headlines. There are thousands of terrific people in Springfield doing wonderful things. City life for this country girl just wasn't something I was able to settle into.
Granby is.... Granby is green. I know that sounds obvious but I don't think the locals really see how green it is. Driving to our new home I am surrounded by green. And not all tidy, well manicured lawns. I mean huge trees, fields and pastures allowed to grow and escape a human footprint. Crops. Tractors. Horses grazing and cows. No strategically placed boulders and rock gardens... just Mother Nature's touch.
And the roads are so narrow and winding. I had forgotten about that too. My driving in town for the past fifteen years or so has been pretty limited to East Street, Pleasant Street and Route 202. Once you leave these streets, the roads sort of close in a bit and the trees curl over you. My three year old sons are in a persistent state of awe. Every curve and sway brings more "Mommy! Its a tunnel! Its a forest!" I had no idea I had raised such city kids. Odd for a small town girl like me to realize. Seth thought the cows were elephants. And that we were visiting a very large zoo.
People ask me how I like the new place and if we're settled in yet. I tell them how much we love it here, how happy everyone is to be here. But you know, I didn't really have to do much settling. It really wasn't hard to get used to the quiet nights and the crickets. I felt just fine about the lack of sidewalks and streetlights every ten feet. I didn't feel the need to grieve the loss of traveling three highways to get to work. And when it took all of four minutes to get a prescription filled at Center Pharmacy but an hour to leave the store, I really didn't mind that either. I certainly was fine with the clip clop of horses walking by my window the other morning.
Granby is the kind of place where folks who grew up here and move on tend to respond to the "Where are you from?" question with, "Granby. Well, I grew up there but now I live in..." You just never shake it off, not all the way. You carry with you the halls of the high school and Aldrich Lake, certain family names that have been here since the beginning, farm stands and tire swings. You carry with you the distinct sounds of walking down an empty trail, the chirping of the birds and the hum of far off tractors. The thudding of a horse hoof and the creak of an old Western saddle. You carry with you the scent of a hay field and freshly mowed lawns. Crunching of the snow as you navigate Taylor Street after a January storm. You carry these things with you. And it seems that no matter how far away you go, how long you stay away, when you come back they all come rushing to the forefront of your memory with a pleasant and surprising hello.
They say you can never go home again. Well, maybe not.
Or maybe I just never really left in the first place?
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