It amazes me how going to the country can reset my whole outlook on life. Over the weekend my mom’s cousin, Bennie, threw an end of the summer, Labor Day party. Comparatively where she lives to where I live, she very much lives in the country. In my neck of the woods we can see the stars so I don’t live in an entirely urban area, but not like at Bennie’s house. When we arrived at her house, it was pitch, black outside.
My mom was telling me how when she was little and she would visit Bennie, and her parents, Aunt Pat and Uncle John, when she had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night they had to go outside to use the outhouse. Using an outhouse was scary enough, but it was hard for me to understand the ramifications until Saturday night. I have very rarely experienced the profound darkness that the country could hold on a moonless night. Though I still reveled in the stars, I tripped over a chair while walking down to check out the pig roast pit down the hill because I literally could not see my feet in the dark.
Back to resetting my perspectives. Every time we go visit Bennie, I wish I could stay in the country forever. When I come home I feel refreshed and re-energized; I feel like the world is full of possibilities. I don’t know what exactly causes this burst in confidence, because in the same token I couldn’t imagine having to drive more than 20 miles to the nearest Meijer store. I do the same thing when we visit my Uncle Larry, who went out of his way to find the most country home that he possibly could, with the intentions of getting away from any city business.