Somewhere, there’s a little unknown town with a diner that serves an amazing slice of pie. I imagine this place.
I imagine the people are friendly.
They say things like, “Hello,” and “Good morning,” as they pass each other.
Strangers are welcomed like family and smiles are like currency. This place is the kind of town where everyone knows each.
The sheriff has nothing much to do, other than drive through neighborhood and smile or wave. Maybe a cat gets stuck up in a tree from time to time. Otherwise, the firehouse is town run but mostly unnecessary because there are no fires here.
In summertime, I imagine the fireflies. I picture the lakes and how they mirror the sky. I picture town dances in the town square. Little boys are free to play. Little girls skip rope. People hold hands here and no one is left behind. No one is left out and no one is forgotten.
I picture a soda shop. They have an ice cream shop. They have a little hardware store and one auto mechanic.
I see this place as a neighborhood in which everyone shares and no one ever needs to lock their doors. It’s safe. It’s beautiful. And ah, the weather is like Heaven on Earth even when it rains.
On Sundays, people offer the holy sentiment to one another, saying, “Peace be with you,” which follows with “And also with you.”
I think of what it must be like to be an old man here, which would be fine, because this is a town where they care for their own. I assume men like this sit on rocking chairs on front porches. They know everything about the town’s history and everyone from the neighborhood comes along to check on them.
They have a small drive-in movie theater at the edge of town. People meet their first and only loves in laces like this. At least, I imagine they do. And us, well, we would be welcome here. In fact, we would be at home.
I want to find this place and visit. I want to be here and watch the sunset. I want to wake and see the sunrise. I want to watch some of the town’s elder’s as they stand in the streams with funny hats and fly fishing equipment, telling stories about the big one that got away.
I want to go to a 4th of July celebration here and watch the fireworks light the sky. I want to hear the excited gasps as townsfolk look up in true amazement, proud to be who they are, grateful for all they have, and humble in recognition that above all things; our freedom did not come freely.
The climate is warm here. The sunsets are like no other place in the world. I wonder if they have peaches. But wait. Of course, they do.
I wonder if they make key lime pie.
Who am I kidding?
Of course, they have key lime pie, pecan, blueberry, apple, coconut custard, and all the flavors one could ever dream of.
I want to go to wedding here. I’m sure I would be invited. As far as I can imagine, everyone would be invited. I want to watch a little flower girl walk next to the ring-bearer and smile endearingly at how simple this world can be..
I’m sure the party would be extraordinary.
Have you ever seen the face of a child the first time they held a sparkler in their hands? Ever see them and notice the look of amazement on their face?
Know what I call that?
I call that the purity of wonder. And that’s what I want to find. I want to find a place that makes me feel the same as a child amazed by the wonder of white shiny sparkles that sizzle on the stick.
I bet the barbecues are amazing. I bet the parks are clean and no one is afraid to go outside, I want to go here. I want to find a place to sit down, like say, maybe under a tree on a blanket with a picnic basket.
I want to smell the breeze, inhale, and look around like, “Yeah, this is what freedom looks like.”
I want find this place and if I can’t find it then at least let me build it. I’m sure if i did, I know people would come.