It was December of 1993, and our family spent Christmas in our brand new house. It was so exciting. It was built on 80 acres outside of Owensville. It was the piece of land my dad always wanted.
As the years went by, and as I began to drive a car of my own, I remember saying MANY times to my dad, "I will NEVER live on a gravel road! NEVER! I just can't stand how dusty my car is. Never, never, never." If you wanted to find our house, you would travel on Hwy EE for about 5 miles and then drive on 3 miles of gravel. I really hated it. My car always had layers of dust on it. What was the point of washing it? It would just get dirty again when I traveled home!
He would always just smile and say, "I used to think the same thing. You might change your mind someday."
Guess what, dad...you were right.
I dream of the day when I might live down a road just like the one I used to see every day on my way home (pictured above). I want to step outside of my front door and see nothing but trees or a field of grass. I want to hear nothing but birds and crickets. I wouldn't mind being awakened at 5:30 am by a whippoorwill...really...it's true.
I am not an outdoorsy kind of girl, but I do know this: I simply love visiting my parents' house if for no other reason than to take a walk down their lane and see the tall pine trees; to skip a rock on their pond that sits not far from their back yard; to sit out on their deck and hear their wind chimes.
No interstate. No train.
I love it.
Perhaps someday we will live in such a place. And if my vehicle is dusty, I won't mind. I know it's a small price to pay.
Dad...I now understand.
The Talk (With Our Daughters)
3 days ago