I live in the somewhat rural suburbs west of Atlanta, in Dallas, Georgia. I say somewhat rural because we are close enough to town that we can access anything we need, but far enough away that we have chickens waking us up in the morning.
Our neighborhood consists of one street…straight in to the dead end circle, then straight back out. Our traffic consists of four-wheelers and dirt bikes and a bunch of kids running the streets. We can see the stars at night, every single one of them. We have a swing on the front porch that my uncle built just for us. We know our neighbors and feel safe at night with the doors unlocked.
As I drive in to work every morning, the scenery changes. Traffic gets heavier, more and more businesses dot the landscape and fewer trees line the roads. By the time I get to my office, I’ve been in the car for nearly an hour and a half, and I can feel the stress settling in to my shoulders. I live for 4:30pm Monday through Friday so I can leave the busy-ness of the city and head back to my quiet place in the country.
Well, quiet until the four-wheelers get fired up and the chickens begin to crow. But that’s a welcome noise that tells me I’m home.