Crazy May: Rural Idaho vs Chicago
Almost 2 years in, it feels like our first May in Small Town America. In May 2019, we were in the heat of throwing things in boxes and scheduling a moving truck to get our lives across the country from Chicago to rural Idaho. In May 2020, well…let’s just not talk about it. So now, May 2021, feels like our first real May in our “new” town.
Truth be told, I thought it would feel different.
See, the month of May in the hustle and bustle of the Chicago suburbs was a new level of #allthethings that was above and beyond the normal level of #allthethings that every other month offered.
What felt like a careening out of control flaming garbage truck, May rolled through town with all the field days, choir concerts, graduations for any grade that carried significance, band ensembles, Girls Scout bridging, vacation planning, state sports tournaments, ABC countdowns, field trips, pajama days, finals, camp registrations, is the pool open yet?, matching t-shirts, don’t forget to appreciate your teacher!
...did I miss anything?
Because I put Small Town America on a pedestal of a slower, more serene way of life, I naturally thought May would be different here. I thought all there would be were birds chirping, flowers popping up from the newly thawed ground, and cows mooing peacefully in the distance. At least, that’s what May 2020 seemed to be the first year we were here ;o)
But alas, it turns out crazy happens in every corner of America - even in the corners deep in the mountains of potato country Idaho. Rest assured, over the pass and through the flats, in the quiet spaces of Small Town America, May insanity is alive and well for all of us.
Kindergarten graduations, fun runs, potlucks, district tournaments, finals, more graduations, field trips (don’t forget your mask!), field days, bike days, spring clean up days, plant all the flowers but don’t let them freeze, camper dewinterizing, get the tackle box stocked, let’s also launch a new business website this month, please let the pool be open this year…
Turns out flaming-garbage-truck-May drives into every town of America. Life happens everywhere.
I know this dance well. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.
But I will make sure my flaming garbage truck comes to screeching halt just inches from June 1st.
June is my month.
In June we breathe.
In June we play.
In June we explore.
June makes May worth it. My calendar will be blocked. My kids will wear pajamas all day. The lawn will be littered with those tiny little pieces of remnant water balloons. Calls and text will take days to return. Our hands will be sticky with popsicle juice.
June will have peace…and in rural Idaho, far more cows mooing than Chicago.
Enjoy this post? You might list this one too: Welcome to Small Town, America
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