I live in Nebraska, arguably not the greatest place in America. It's subzero in the winter and chokingly humid in the summer. In between there are spring tornados and clogged gutters of autumn leaves. Good stuff, right?
But sometimes ... Nebraska is a good place. I had that epiphany earlier today when I was floating in my above-ground micro-pool, watching the trees sway and the flowers in bloom and the grass shimmering green in the sunlight. Life exists in the way we look at things, as everyone knows. I am often prone to looking past the beautiful things and fixating on the shitty bits. Like there was a moment today when my eyes wandered to my roof - a veritable shit-fest of broken, crumbling, flaking shingles. It's one of the roofs that even strangers out for a walk might look up and say, "what the hell happened there?" I'll tell you what happened: Nebraska weather. But rather than cussing out my husband under my breath, I just closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of suburbia - distant lawn mower, chirping birds, scampering squirrels. Seriously, that was all I heard for two hours.
Here's the deal: it's pretty inexpensive to live here (compared to the ridiculous cost of living in "cooler" cities), the schools don't suck, there's no real crime to contend with (at least where I live), and everything I could possibly need to live within a five-mile radius of my house. My kids are fairly well-adjusted, no one I know is in jail, most people I care for are healthy, and I have full use of all my limbs. You know? Life could be worse.
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