Moving to the country
Standing in a field, breathing in the smell of soil, cow and fresh air, listening to the grasshoppers and the faint rustling of wind through dried feed corn, I think this is "the country." Soon it will be home.

Since I was little, "the country" has been a sort of dream world where all wishes and desires were put away and stored until that magical someday when we would move there.

"Mom, can I have a horse?"

"Someday, if we move to the country."

"Mom, can I have a cat?"

"Someday, if we move to the country."

Out here, there is nothing as far at the eye can see. And yet there is everything. The first time we went out, I thought you couldn't even see the neighbors from the property but I was wrong. See, there he the truck driving out to his tractor.

And a few of the local teens walked down to say "Hi!" when they heard we were moving in.

I'm starting to get just a little excited.