Some time ago I blogged about coming back home and how at peace my soul felt to really come home. Well, since I have been home the old and the new has been overwhelming. Old memories coming back as I drive through neighborhoods where I spent many childhood hours, but adjust to the new homes, roads and stores in place of fields.
I am often stunned into silence at the beauty of the fields when the wheat turns golden and the breeze turns the fields into rippling ‘amber waves’ or when I am driving to work and witness the enormous rising sun over the valley, but that’s not it.
I love the mom & pop diners serving cheap, but oh-so-delicious dinners, all coming with a small scoop of ice cream for dessert. Not fancy ice cream, but your basic vanilla, chocolate, butter pecan or sherbet. That isn’t it either.
In the last 2 years since I have been home, some old memory or feeling comes back and I am washed over with peace and happiness that I am home. But there is one thing that I keep coming back to –
THERE ARE NO STREET LIGHTS.
Yep, that simple.
I moved from here to the city and for the next 23 years, give or take, I lived in or near a city. You become used to the constant light. The lights of the cars that never seem to rest, the street lights that flood every road in every neighborhood, the neon lights illuminating signs, church marquees and billboards. When I came home, it was the first thing I noticed. It was pitch black. The only light was a light in the farmhouse or the gentle dim lights of electric candles in windows of the homes lining the dark streets.
I am thankful that I moved away, if only for the ability now to appreciate the simloilset things, such as darkness.