For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to the bright lights of the big city. When I was a young girl, and again during college, my family lived outside of Washington DC, and when we drove by at night, with all of those big buildings and homes and restaurants full of lights and life, well, it didn’t get much better than that.  There was an honest-to-goodness physical pull towards the city, I could feel it to my core, and knew that one day, not too far away, that life would be mine.  I couldn’t wait.

After college I lived in Connecticut for a bit, then headed to San Francisco, which, to this day, remains my favorite domicile.  Everything I expected, I found, and more:  interesting job, great suits (this was back in the day), shopping galore, too many restaurants to count, and endless blocks of beautiful houses and parks surrounded by that glorious bay.  It was the land of enchantment, and I loved it. 

I loved my husband more, though, and when his job took him to Seattle, I transferred there.  Seattle’s culture is a world away from San Francisco’s, and it took me awhile to settle in.  People stared at my fancy suits – and wondered why I didn’t just buy a sturdy Patagonia fleece.  After awhile, I started to wonder, too.  When it began to drizzle and I wanted to snuggle up with a blanket and a movie, they were all headed out for a bike ride.  What’s a little rain, sweetie?  Over time I came to love this place, hardiness and all, although I can’t claim to have become significantly more hardy myself.  I’m still not a fan of camping or biking in the rain.  You’ll find me inside on those days, thank you very much, with my hot tea or a glass of red wine, depending on the time of day, and enjoying the comforts of my warm, dry home.

Alas, Seattle wasn’t to be long-term either.  Despite my longing for and loving of the big-city life, God is having himself a big old laugh at my expense.  First, Wisconsin.  Now, Michigan.  People, I like it here, but this is no big city.

And then I read THIS, and I thank God that I am not caught up in that mess.  We are busy, of course.  My kids play sports and take piano and have homework every night but Friday.  (Thank you, teachers, for that last part.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.)  Sometimes our pace feels frantic, but dear Lord, even though I think I’m a pretty high-energy person, who can live like this?  Is that life?  I realize, of course, that this family doesn’t represent every family in the big city.  (I also realize that Long Island isn’t the city, but you get the idea.)  There are tons of you out there doing big city family life really well.  I’m just not so sure that I could do it well—I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t be caught right up in this maelstrom, making sure my kids were getting this lesson and that tutor and every other possible advantage I could give them if those were the pressures around me.  I am a bit competitive, you know. 

And so, even though driving past farmland gives me an actual shiver, because there is no part of me that is ever going to be hardy enough to survive ACTUAL farming, I have to wonder if those people don’t have it going on.  I have to wonder if, in the end, their life is richer. 

But then I realize that not only do they not have the Mad Dash, they also don’t have a Target.

So, nope, we’re not movin’ there.  I guess we’ll stick with the compromise out here in suburbia, and hope that God doesn’t laugh too hard when he finds out I’m still planning to move to the city.  As soon as they all graduate.