I think I could love life in a small town.
I just spent several days visiting one of my best friends and her family in a teeny-tiny town just inside the state line of Arkansas. And, let me say, there is great charm and appeal to life within a three-mile radius.
For example, the toll booth operator who welcomes you to the town by decorating her lane with seasonal goodness. Hello, say the scarecrows. Welcome to Siloam Springs.
I loved their quaint, charming Broadway: complete with a dance studio, a children's boutique, a bookstore I must explore next time, and a coffee shop. The barista learned my name the first day, greeted me personally the second day, and prepared 'my usual' before I could order on the third day. Impressive.
I smiled at the distinction between 'the gas station on the left' or 'the gas station on the right.' One of which doesn't actually have gas. But it does host a breakfast club of diners each morning, so the donuts are slim pickin's by 10:15. And nobody gave my friend a second glance when she carried her baby in wearing his Christmas pajamas, a snow cap, and socked feet... to buy milk and cheese. We must be in Arkansas.
I love the winding roads, the snug alleys, and the graveyards with weathered tombstones dated from countless generations.
I loved the pace. Slow it on down. Nobody's in a hurry. And it only takes four minutes to get where you're going, anyway.
I loved the ice cream stands, the Christmas lights across the lampposts, and the spirit of the people who love where they live.
I loved it.