Sunday, September 19, 2010

Savor every moment, remember every detail.

Often my blog has information for writer's about their craft. But, recognizing as we all do, that our art and life is woefully and joyfully intertwined, I am sharing some truly inspired moments from my daily life.

My move to North Carolina has gone as smoothly as possible. I started a new day job, found a log cabin to live in, and made some new friends in just four weeks. My home and life in Southern Illinois seems ages ago and far away, now.

A week ago, I was a little homesick for the things I knew so well back "home". Finding light switches in my new place was a dangerous game in the middle of the night. Deciphering the thick southern drawl in my new hometown was a tricky an adventure. And, foreign sights and sounds were not becoming commonplace occurrences very quickly.

But, my attitude was suddenly changed by a gorgeous set of patio furniture, a free beer, and overpriced tahini.

Yesterday, as I flew down a back road with radio up, I noticed something charming and shocking all at once. House after house had gorgeous patio furniture and outdoor seating areas. Not a single home had a fence though. Nothing seemed to be tied down. These people must be crazy to leave such nice items unattended for anyone to steal, I thought. I have never lived anywhere that people blindly trusted their neighbors so much.

With a shake of my head, I drove on to a local bar. I ordered a beer and a sandwich and sat alone. Only a few minutes passed when the bartender brought me another beer. I wasn't ready for a refill yet, and I tried to tell him. "It's from the owner. Free beer to anyone sitting alone at the bar," he explained simply.
For a moment, I was a little insulted. A pity beer? I had planned on having another one anyway, but who gives away free beer?

After I ate my dinner, I stopped by the nearby grocery store for a few random items. Milk, bread, eggs, and deodorant. As I wandered down the cooking aisle, I remembered that I also needed tahini for hummus. I grabbed a jar and headed for the check-out. As the clerk rang me up, I noticed that the tahini was going to cost me five dollars. I balked.

"Five dollars?" I asked.

"It's worth it," she assured me.

"I don't want it." Worth it or not, it was a rip-off.

"You should try it. If you don't like it, bring it back for a refund." With that she put it in my grocery bag. "You're not from around here, huh?"

"No, just moved." I didn't feel like paying for marked up sesame paste or making small talk.

"You're going to have a great time getting to know our little town."

I was a little stunned by her certainty. She didn't know me at all. I paid and walked back to my car. As I turned over the engine, I realized I was no longer homesick. Instead, I was ready to begin learning a new place. I felt suddenly primed for a grand adventure and great new world. The writer in me recognized the transition and change as crossing the threshold into the next act of my personal story. The awkward human inside of me couldn't possibly articulate any feelings right away. But, I knew that I had to savor every moment, remember every detail.

As the late evening light faded, I decided to head back to my new house. I passed the a house with gorgeous patio furniture again. A huge crowd had gathered in the chairs and around the fire pit in the center. People were talking excitedly in the swirling firelight.

I made a turn onto a country road, rolled down my window, and let my hand dance on the updrafts of warm late-summer air. Home was just a mile away and didn't want the drive to ever end.

2 comments:

  1. Kate, I really enjoyed reading this. I'm so glad you are finding your way. Now quit fooling around and start writing something serious!

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  2. Love it. Sounds a little like the IGA in Vienna, haha.

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