I grew up in the country with not another house in sight, when the trees were all dressed in green. That is, until I was age 10.

Then a dweller of a little village I began to be. The trees were all scattered here and there. But, houses and humans were the décor of my little town.

Seven years of village life was astounding to me.  When outside not a peek could I make because the neighbors’ ears were anything but deaf.

Running down the pristine streets was not at all allowed. “Walk not run” echoed in my ears until I felt like I had been starched and pressed from the inside out.

With all my lady like hope while country still tickled in my toes I landed like an alien in the big city without a clue how to live the DC life.

The city of DC, our Nation’s capital taught me so many interesting things. It all seemed so glamorous and perfect. I loved everybody and everything.

The beauty of city life changed into riots and fires and in my mind destroyed the magic of Washington, D.C.

Over the bridge and out of the city life began to breathe an air of relief. Still not sure just why so many of us felt we had to leave.

Suburban life has become my norm.  Not at all city, village or country. A suburb just has a unique flavor all it’s own.

All earth is good because God created it to be. Living life in love, joy and hope can be found in any space called home.

Sit awhile and share a cup of tea while you tell me about the places you have been and things you have seen.

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