Happy Independence Day! We're back from probably the best family vacation of all time. Life on the beach is pretty swell. The house, only the bare necessities, the beauty, the peace and quiet--I relished freedom from Real Life and didn't mind bad internet connectivity at all.
Most of you know I live in a town actually named "Freedom." Many years ago I had just graduated from college with my teaching degree, broken up with Mr. Very Very Wrong, had my wisdom teeth extracted, watched my parents pack up the moving van and head to a new town again and I faced my future feeling alone--and a little fearful. I'd landed a contract for a semester-long position at a bitty little town at the far west side of the Dairy State and downsized myself from a 1-bedroom apartment to live in even a smaller place.
Shortly before I left town, I ran into my friend Dan. He knew of the break-up, etc. and he asked me about my plans.
I'm moving to Independence, I told him, my chin held high.
Good for you! he replied. That's great! Now that you're free, you can do whatever you want.
Well, it's kind of small and not near anything--I'm not real sure how it's going to go.
Your independence is only as small as you make it. Girlfriend, you're free--live your dreams!
Ah, Dan thought I was speaking of moving to independence in the rhetorical sense. I'd meant this. Tiny little po-dunk town in the middle of freaking nowhere--the only rental apartment near my new job.
It's true, I've lived in Independence and Freedom--it would be appropriate to retire in a town named Liberty someday--just to fully round things out, you know.