Small Town

I am not used to living in a small town. For the past 16 years I have lived in the third biggest city in the U.S.  Even while growing up I lived in towns that easily had more than 20,000 people. 

When we picked our new town to live in, we did a lot of research and were interested in a certain pocket of the town.  I didn't really grasp the magnitude of what being in a town of only 8,000 people means. My college class was probably bigger than my whole town!

Last week, on my walk to the train, a woman had just pulled her car out of my neighbor's driveway when I left my house. I waved (because everyone here does that even when they don't know someone) and started my 7-minute walk to the train. At the end of my street, the same car that had been in my neighbor's driveway goes by and the lady offers me a ride. I say okay, mostly because you shouldn't say no in this town and because I was tired of trudging through snow, ice and cold to walk to the train. As I approach the car, she tells me she was just dropping off something at my neighbor's and she is on her way to church. I felt better for my city instincts not kicking in and willingly get in her car.

As soon as I am in, she tells me she used to live at my address for 15 years, two owners ago. She asks me if we kept the shed in the back (we did - her husband built it); if we had kids (her husband is the town's fire captain and is certified installing car seats; who Austen's teacher is (she walks her dog); and what we built on top of our garage (a size able deck).

We chatted for a few minutes more when we arrived at the train station and exchanged full names before I got out of her car marveling at what it means to live in a small town. 

The magnitude of moving here starting to sink in; this place is like no other place I have ever lived before.