Friday, October 5, 2012

Fall has Fallen

Dear John,
 
Fall has fallen. It never got out of the 50s today, will go down to the 30s tonight, and the trees are lovely. We have some time before they peak, but they're lovely now. Terry was harvesting this afternoon. And I actually closed the house and turned on the heat without you here to make me do it.
 
I didn't go to First Friday. For once, I got off work early - unusual for a Friday - and would have had to go home and then come back. My inner debate was ended when I pulled up the radar on my phone. It's rained all evening, hard on occasion. Not a pleasant night to be outside. I'll keep my eye on the calendar and keep trying. What I need is a Friday that I work until 5 or 6, then I can go straight from work.
 
On the way home, driving down County Road 42, I was enjoying the beauty of the trees and fields, and remembered one of our often-repeated conversations. You know which one - the one where you're driving and I'm looking out the window, and I thank you for moving me to such a beautiful place, and you say you're glad I like it, but you're still surprised. I did grow up in more rolling country, but I also grew up fishing. And the feeling of this flat country is very much like the feeling of being on a small boat in the water. There is something in me that relaxes and flattens out when I can see to the horizon.
 
And after growing up in Atlanta, all this open space still amazes me. When I go back there, I feel like everything is closing in on me. You know there are stretches on State Route 5 that I love so much. You always chuckled at me, because every time we drove through them, I'd say what a beautiful day it was. It could be sunny, raining, snowing, hot, cold, whatever - I'd always say what a beautiful day it was. And it always is out here.
 
So once again, thank you for moving me here. It's been a week or so since anybody asked me when and where I'm moving, so maybe the town has become resigned to my continued presence. The only places I've ever seen that are this beautiful are the bluffs on Mackinac Island (and I can't even afford to work in those houses), and the high plains. But this is home. And you gave me this home, at so many levels - you brought me to the Midwest, to Topeka, to this house, to our little family. This is the deepest I've ever put down roots, and I owe that to you. And I'm a North Georgia pine tree, so my taproot goes all the way to China. I will not be uprooted.
 
It's late, and I should be asleep. Jethro has been begging me to go down the hall to bed for about two hours, and is now sound asleep beside me on the bed. Sleep good! We love you and miss you.
Joan.

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