For those who may have wondered, I’m still alive. I just fell off the grid for a little while. Over the last month and a half I have officially become the mother of a middle-schooler (how did that happen?!), completely moved to the Eastern Shore (we owned the house for over a month before moving so that Grace could finish the school year), and my Pit Bull has decided he should be allowed to do anything the cats can do (and he’s now about half my body weight).
I’ve learned that there are two kinds of people in Centreville: those who were born on the Eastern Shore, and those who weren’t. Since I’m from “the other side of the bridge,” I’m known locally as a “chicken-nicker.” The name derives from the incompetence of Western Shore folk who crab using fishing rods and chicken necks instead of troll lines. Add that hometown accent and instead of a “chicken-necker,” you’ve got “chicken-nicker.” Go figure.
I’ve finally wrapped up all my loose ends on the other side of the bridge, unpacked all my boxes, and am trying to focus on training the dog, enjoying time with Grace, and working on my writing again. I’m seven chapters deep into Book Two, and am still praying for God to open a door for publishing Book One and blessing my writing ministry. I feel just as strongly as ever that this is the mission He has given me.
We love our new little house and our quiet little “Mayberry” town. Walking the dog for miles a day to wear him out and encourage good behavior is a lot more enjoyable when you‘re surrounded by beautiful historic homes and a view of the Corsica River to inspire the imagination. Church bells ring out marking every hour and every half past, and one of the bell towers plays a hymn twice a day. The Farmer’s Market sells fresh produce, local meat, and even wine, every Wednesday and Saturday at the town square outside the 18th century courthouse on my walking route.
And everybody I meet knows exactly where my address is and says, “Welcome to Centreville!” Even the customers in the line behind me at the Walgreens when I’m filling out my application for a rewards card. “Oh, you bought one of those new houses just behind the library. Your neighbor’s my aunt, and my cousin Joe cuts her lawn…”
It’s a small town. I like it.
