As humans, we are all multi-faceted and have layers. All of us have different sides that change depending upon the situation or lighting. While the core of us may stay the same, there are always surprising new things to learn about someone.
Many assume that because I have lived in New York, and Atlanta for many years, that I am a city dweller. That the concrete streets and sounds of people and movement signal that I am at home. Many are surprised to find that I am, very much, a country girl.
I grew up in the country, wild and free. As child I ran as far as I could go, until I was so tired that I could not go any more. And still there were miles of wilderness to explore. The only rule was to be home by lunch or before dark. There was no worry about crime, or kidnapping or any kind of danger. Well, other than snakes or alligators, but they were easy enough to avoid. I climbed trees, played in streams, jumped in the a=water and went where I wanted. It was all safe.
I chased fireflies at night and feel asleep to the sound of frogs, crickets and cicadas. I was free. And it was wonderful. We had goats and chickens and geese and dogs and cats and ducks, and everything but horses. And we took care of them every morning before school and every evening before dinner.
I would not trade my childhood for anything. Yes there are many opportunities in the city for jobs and houses and theater and many interesting things. But the country feeds my soul. The sound of the woods, the sight of the trees, taking care of animals. I love it all. And one day, I will leave the city and return to the country. It is calling.
I am tired of the hurry of the city. And that is the thing about writing. I can go where I want to go and still write. Oh, the temptations of where whisper to me at night. And I answer in my dreams, planning now to turn into reality. It is the calling of the country.