Though I grew up in the country, when I came out, twenty years ago, living in a city made the most sense to me. Once out of the closet, I knew I wouldn’t go back in, and I didn’t want to feel the need to check my surroundings before being myself. I think it was a good decision, given the times, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the places I’ve been.

More recently, my country mouse has begun asserting itself in my imagination.

I find myself longing for simpler living with lots of space. Space as a buffer. Space as a place to play. Space to watch. Space to wonder.

I’ll move at the speed of a golf cart, trundling across dirt paths to visit my neighbors and their goats and cows, and grandchildren.

Of course, I’ll need storage, for my cookie deliveries and summer ice cream stand. Both cookies and ice cream will be free.

I’ll have a set of tools and gloves, because I get splinters looking at wood. There will be hours spent helping friends with their projects, talking, listening, “visiting”, as my grandparents would say. The caveat to my helpfulness is I don’t do weeding or hole digging. If that’s your chore, I’ll toot the horn on my way by.

Ziggy or Ziggy Jr. will be by my side. Everywhere. (Hide your cats.)

There! That’s what I mean, jeans above: durable, practical and a little bit colorful, that’s the life for me!

Thank you country mouse. I bow to your wisdom.