Leaving it all Behind

People in office cubicles dream of leaving their dull paper clips and chipped coffee cups framing work orders, for another more fulfilling life. And then, they brush their dreams away when their Friday paycheck is plopped in front of them. I can’t blame them for that. Dreams can be like a little dog we once had, cute and all cuddly and loved by all the neighbors. But for us the owners of that dog, he would hardly come when we called and gave our carpet a daily potty smell, then taunted our cat. Things aren’t always as rosy as they might seem.
And yet, the world will never stop yielding dreamers, who actually follow their dream for better or worse or South land peanut butter pie as was in our case.
Our cat named Arty meowed and curled under my feet, this morning, trying to persuade me to open the long line of windows that stretch across our roaming dinning room we have Sunday suppers in. It’s too August to even think about opening a window here in the Deep South where we live now, even if we are in a mountain zone. So, the windows stay shut, with the wrm weather outside, while our air conditioner hums. But, summer is rich green in this mountain area, green and swept with soft meadow grass and Dogwoods dressed in wispy bright leaves.
We moved to our North Alabama historical house with a large southern dinning room, 2 autumns ago. We left our home, a Picasso place of artsy contemporary people who worked for a giant mouse, in Orlando, Florida. Some of our Orlando friends were dancers, singers and actors from New York pulling a job that paid the suburb house bills away from Broadway which didn't. They were often refreshingly casual and sipped Margaritas with soft tacos at their kitchen bars. Their dinning rooms were turned into home offices where they worked after hours, from their amusement park job, on some hobby type paying venture. They loved the beach and bathing in Pina Colada scented suntan lotion with a calypso band following the wind. So do we!
In time however, after scarifying up plenty of home improvement shows emitting lingering romantic notions that living in a downtown historical arts and crafts home might be perfectly perfect, I moved from the Florida suburbs. My little girl, and husband came along, as my husband is so endearing with my Lucy/Ricky ideas. The truth though - really, my husband and daughter were just as ready for a change as I was, otherwise I would still be in Orlando wearing my Tankini top with my shorts right now.
Yes, we moved far, far away. from the malls with zen water falls and gadgets like ice cream cake makers. We left behind us, low maintenance stucco on our home and oh, those beautiful palm trees that my mother so poetically says that sound like rain when they rustle.
But, I was born in Key West and I hadn’t any idea of what it might be like to put out a pumpkin around Halloween and it not deflate, like an old basketball, out in the hot sun. I thought hot cocoa was a sauna induced drink even in the middle of winter . My daughter and I were born and brought up where summer just never ended.
We wondered out of our Orlando suburb and moved where autumn leaves of red, gold and even rosy pink rustle in an October breeze and soft snow falls come on a sweet occasions in winter. We wanted to live, not visit, but live where at least a kiss of the seasons came to us.
We live now on a real Maine Street in North Alabama, not an amusements park’s depiction. We live in a town with characters, not giant costumed characters. We live in a house that needs work. But with dormers, cherry wood floors, a butler pantry and an upstairs attic room lost in dull gray paint, personality is a huge possibility in this house that needs work, lots of work!
We live in a 1930s home in a town where Franklin Roosevelt visited during the depression. He named a rose garden park here after his mother and rides through again, on his whistle stop, when the town’s trains blow through and old stories about that day are told.
We live in a place where new neighbors are greeted by giggly sweet children holding chocolate chip cookies that read "Welcome to our street" and horse and carriages ride by during Christmas to tour downtown houses. At Christmas, holiday trees are popped out on front porches, fresh greenery is hung on eves and the clopping of the horses hoofs, and all this, makes this town sparkle not always with snow, this is still the south after all. But, our town sparkles with charm, friendly faces and glittery sugar cookies at church socials.
We live day by day, starting our production business all over in a new town and that is not always so easy. I home school now also, though I said that I never, ever would. But, it just seemed like a good idea, at least through JR High, for us.
If you would rather keep your Friday paycheck, and this day in age you are probably lucky for doing so - just do your day dreaming about selling your house and moving away from everything here - feel free.