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US > Virginia > Round Hill
I used to think that my home town was where I was born or even one of the many places I lived while growing up. Now I know it’s where you settle, bringing your history along to make it familiar even when it’s new.
As I sip my steaming coffee in the morning, gazing at the Blue Ridge Mountains from my deck I know that I am home. I came here a year ago, tired of the city, hungry for the past. I’ve come to hear the birds sing and watch the clouds dance across the sky. It warms my heart to see the horses grazing in the field down the road. We take turns each month hosting the local ladies group for the evening. We sip our wine and talk the talk of women everywhere glad for now to be in the company of our own kind. We are old and young, liberated all, yet still we share recipes and child care tips and complain about our husbands (just a little, now and then).
In the evening, weather permitting, kids ride bikes and skate up and down the street. Young couples stroll by with babies in carriages walking the family dog. Often they stop to chat and comment on the weather. The men compete for the best kept yard. If the grass is greener on the other side, it’s time to weed n’ feed! Remember block parties and winter festivals? We have them, along with pancake breakfasts at the diner. It’s all right here. America as we remember her. Right here. Right now.
Bobbi C
Submitted:
Thursday 22nd January 2004, 1:38 PM
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