Sweet Man and I kinda like to do things a little differently. For instance taking a fairly indirect route somewhere so that we can cross 3 state lines within minutes of each other. So we can see where rivers converge, and bridges meet. So we can see things we have never seen before, no matter how provincial or mundane they may be to some. This is why we took back road highways and went to Paducah on our way to The Land Between the Lakes. Even though our campsite was on the opposite end of the park than Paducah.
Wednesday morning, after we had a good ole Bob Evans breakfast (so yummy) and made our Wal-Mart run for groceries and forgotten camping supplies we headed downtown to see historic Paducah right on the River. I love the old buildings, the brick streets and the obvious love for art that this community has.
We ate amazingly creamy and delicious homemade ice cream at River Place.
I shopped at the Twisted Willow, an adorable shop that reminded me a lot of Anthropologie but smaller and more local.This shop reminded me of the one I used to daydream of having. These days I don't want to have this store as much as I would like to be able to shop in this store.
When did bigger is better become such a standard, even for local shops? I miss the small one room shops where you could really get to know the owner and you always find something small, reasonable and unique. Maybe I am just fussing and missing the small downtown experience I grew up with. Le sigh.
We saw other things in Paducah. Old Trains, Biker Churches, the Ohio River up-close, really cool wall art, old brick streets, cozy looking patio restaurants.
But it was hard at times to be settled. To be present and concentrate. See we had a showing at our house that day and I was miles away, unable to fluff my house for viewing. We had 5 showings last week and one very weak nibble and so as we walked around Paducah I was at times only half there. Part of me was firmly planted in the Land of What If.
At some point during our camping trip I looked at Sweet Man and said, "We have to have an end date. We have to have a date when we will decide to stay where we are and be settled about it. Move forward with life at this house, in this neighborhood, this town." At some point I have to be able to fluff my nest again. Hang things on a wall -be it in this house or the farm house. So we picked a date. And it felt good. It felt freeing. Like a kid who is out of control finally getting some hard and fast boundaries I was able to slow down and breathe. I was able to relax.
Does this mean I am giving up? I don't think so. I think it just means that I am open. Open to another plan. Open to not having to have what I think I need. Opening myself to trusting that the best will be and the rest will fall away.
I still drive by fields of green and hope. I see cows in pastures and I smile. I still (from time to time) redecorate the farm house in my mind, plan parties there, imagine strolls across the meadow at sunset. But I also see life in this house. I see the color of the paint I will cover my hardwoods with (gasp! I know!) I see my farmhouse sink installed here. I see more chickens in the backyard and the boys and I riding our bikes around our lovely paved streets.
So that is where we are. House still for sale, farm still for sale, hope still rumbling around, life moving forward. Settled.