Loving A Small Town

So, this is one of those blog entries written "on location" - like the one at the Laundromat.

I am sitting here satisfying my hunger at the local Bob Evans. I, often, eat a meal on Saturday here, accompanied by only a book. I am perfectly comfortable eating alone even out...

I understand this is a strange quality / skill? from other friends who have told me how frightened they are to eat alone. But perhaps, as I've said before, that's a topic for another post.

It is not unusual to see someone else I know when I am here. It is a small town. But it isn't frequent because I am still relatively new and what few friends I have in town apparently have lives that are broader than eating a mid-afternoon meal at the Bob Evans.

But it is still a warm and welcoming feel being here. I, quite surprising to me, love being called "hun" and "sweetie" by strangers. Although, I do come here often enough that some are more than strangers now.

Even if I don't recognize or know someone, though, it is still quite usual to witness others who have arrived separately to have that moment of recognition and greeting and warmth. And even from a distance, I feel all warm and fuzzy, too.

There is an advantage to living in a big city of some measure of anonymity. You know that you can go out looking like a slob and people won't know you or might think you're being trendy. You can hide in the shadows in a big city if you want to (unless of course you are shaped like a cube - then you tend to stand out no matter where you are!).

And you know? I realize I don't miss that anonymity. Yes, I have to think twice before going out looking like a character from Young Frankenstein thanks to bed head, and that can put a cramp in things (I need a hat, but they usually come in round, not square shapes). But I love the familiarity, I love the warmth. I love living in a small town.