It is 3am and I find myself unable to sleep. I’ve been having trouble adhering to a “normal” sleep schedule for a few weeks now. I’ll go to bed at my usual work-day time at about 8pm, but at around 10, I always find myself wide awake and terribly, terribly alert.
Living in a small town is kind of a bummer when you catch a case of insomnia. There is no where to go because everything is closed…unless you count Wal-Mart, and that is just NOT a reasonable option. These are not the sorts of things I want to see at 3am…or at any time, really.
Small towns are good for some things, though. For instance, right around the time that dusk was beginning to pink the sky, I looked out my kitchen window and saw a doe and three little spotted white tail fawns prancing in my driveway. And earlier, when I slipped out of the house to take a midnight drive, on my way to the car I happened to look up and see a sky full of the brightest and biggest stars anyone could imagine. Nothing else to say, except…beautiful.
There are moments when I wish I lived in a big, flashy city like New York or Los Angeles or even New Orleans, but when I actually sit and think about it, I am happy and proud to come from a small, small town. The people are (usually) pretty friendly, helpful, and actually care about their neighbors. There’s plenty of room to breathe and, let’s face it, all the trees around here make that a bit easier, also.
It would be nice to have easy access to big libraries, writing centers, workshops, and places that actually host open mic poetry nights, but at the end of the day, I don’t mind traveling to get to those things–as long as I can always return to my yard full of trees and deer and my country skies full of stars.