When I told my sister Barb we were moving to Ruckersville, she asked me if it was close to Hooterville. At the time I laughed and said no, but in the time since, I’m beginning to wonder.
I’m not claiming there is a trio of beautiful young women with a “Jo” at the end of their name in town, nor has Mr. Haney arrived at our door with an offer too good to be true. But in some very distinct ways, we are very much like Oliver and Lisa Douglas; leaving our “city” life for that of the RFD.
The first thing that struck me was the seemly long distances needed to travel to get to where I want to go. In some cases, it really is a “furr piece”. We drove eleven miles to go to Mass on Sunday- and it only took a few minutes longer than our accustomed four mile trip to St. Marks. In others, it only seems that way – the closest Walmart, an icon of modern civilization, is only about two miles from the house, roughly the same distance from our old house to the Walmart on Princess Anne. But, to get there I have to turn left onto US29, climb a hill, travel through a deer crossing and turn left on US33. For me, this is a much different experience than just driving a few blocks through a few couple of traffic lights. The suburban landscape is familiar, the rural is not. Everywhere I turn there are rolling green hills.
Mind you, everything I need is here, without all lot of stuff I don’t need stuffed in between. It is a change I can get used to, without much hardship.