This life and that life. This town and that city. This place and that one could hardly be more different, yet I feel at home here in Small Town just like I do in Big City. Here, we bounce on old brick streets while driving a car. There, we glide on trains or ride buses. Our people live here, but over the years, we’ve bonded with the people of the world who bring their customs and cultures to Queens. And their food! Laurence says he misses soy sauce when he’s in Small Town. The smell of garlic does not waft through the air here, like it does on the streets and in the hallways of our apartment building in NYC.
We enjoy the conversations around dining tables and in coffee shops that come with visiting in Small Town. Being with family is always quality time. We get to laugh and love great nieces and nephews, and listen to, “Boom,” as the little niece tells about Dad shooting an armadillo.
It rained and rained in the City. We came to Small Town, and it rained here. The rain didn’t shut the subway down or close Night Market for six Saturdays like it did in Queens. Instead, now the wheat can come up in the big fields.
My parents live in Small Town. We carry coffee to the porch while we read the Word and meditate. The porch is for visiting with Dad and Mom (and anyone that comes by). There is no porch in the Big City, but it is home. Berniece
An Ordinary Life 