I'm home for a few days for the long Labor Day weekend with my family in our small Western Pennsylvania town. I always notice the distinct change of pace when I go from the big metropolitan city back to my small town, but today this particularly struck me when I was out shopping for a few hours this morning. I went to an outlet mall about an hour north of my house and it was quite crowded because of the holiday sales. As I wove through the crowds on the sidewalk, I found myself thinking over and over again, "Why are these people walking so slow?" or "I wish they would pick up the pace!"
The DC girl in me was the driven girl on a mission, trying to get where I needed to go. It's funny though, because I have been in DC for so long now that the pace doesn't consiously strike me as "fast", anymore. At least, not until I leave the metropolitan and venture into the suburbs, or a small town, or the countryside. You get so used to the fast pace that you think it's normal. But yet, whenever I step away from it I am almost in awe of the fact that other people in other places are completely content to kick it down a few notches. And to be honest, I that once the residal fast paced perspective in me stops spinning, I am content to go slower too. Away from the hustle and bustle, crowds and traffic, I realize that my heart really is more at home in a less hectic place. Perhaps my gradual recognition of this is the stirring in my heart that a new adventure for me might be on the horizon. Who knows. But for the next day or two before I have to head back to the city I will enjoy the intimacy and slower pace of the place I call home.
No comments:
Post a Comment