Just back from our walk to the Post Office and the park. They are oiling and chipping the roads around town so a bunch of crusty old guys were hanging out at the park pavilion, waiting for their turn to drive/load/bulldoze, etc. The accents are different than those around home. Their topics of conversation are different. Two boys rode up on their bikes. I think they may have been sons of two of the guys there. Anyway, they were discussing whether or not Blandinsville's dump truck was coming over to help and whether the truck was black/blue or black/purple.
I of course have many great childhood memories of visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house while growing up. Playing in the kiddie pool. Riding Dad's old bikes. Playing with the neighbor kid, Johnny. Going to the park. Playing along the railroad tracks. Complete freedom to roam the town - all 5 blocks of it! Perhaps in a couple years I will be able to let go enough and give my own kids a taste of the same freedom. Ryan could handle it now and Bella would be okay if she stayed with him. Felisa of course would not be content to stay behind so I guess they'll have to wait. I did let them play in the back for 15 minutes while I helped Grandma with the dishes. And... there was no fence!!! (gasp!)
But back to my point... as an adult I am just very aware of how different things are around here, on many different levels.