I moved to the country fully believing I was already a country girl. I grew up in the country, had chickens and rode horses as a girl, loved the quiet, secluded life, and always attended very small schools.
I love my little house, my beautiful view across the empty sagebrush valley, the wildlife, the silence, and the opportunities this rural life offers my daughter.
I expected a few bumps along my new country road. I didn’t expect to fit in with the locals. To be bluntly honest, I didn’t come here to make friends. I expected to experience a little culture shock. But I didn’t expect the intense feelings of overwhelm and inadequacy, the feelings that tell me, loudly and without reservation, that I am no country girl.
I am just a woman from the burbs, with a storebought chicken coop and five mismatched chickens in the back yard. I like my expensive skin care. I like shopping. I like smoking a Marlboro on the back porch while perusing Facebook on my smartphone. I like my yard to be right proper and pretty. Prettier than everyone else’s, I might add.
I don’t like country sports, how the whole county rallies around the high school football team. I don’t know how to hitch a horse trailer up to the truck. I’m afraid of horses. I like art and music and rebellion. I like academics. I like big libraries. And reliable internet. I like a fucking Starbucks frap with soy every now and again.
But, here I am living my dream of county life, and I do adore it, and don’t regret the move. I miss many things about the burbs. But I love solitude, I love watching the storms roll across the skyline, unobstructed by any man-made structures whatsoever. I love how black the nights are at the new moon, that I’m seeing stars I never knew existed.
I’m ok that the nearest Starbucks is two hours away. But I am not a country girl. And now I move forward, yet again, to try to figure out what and who exactly I am. I can’t seem to get the universe to divulge that little secret to me yet.
So far I just know I’m wild and blue and the only pagan in the county. Maybe I don’t need to know much more than that.