I went tonight to a remote part of far Southwestern Virginia.....a place where those who live in Roanoke and call themselves Southwestern Virginians would have to drive several hours to get to. Although I wasn't going there for pleasant reasons, it was a beautiful drive. I was taken back, momentarily to being twelve and living in a neighboring town where cloudy days in the fall in the mountains have their own feeling and sight....it is a dusty, dirty sight, not one that is necessarily bad but not good. The feeling was one of melancholy.
I live in the mountains and honestly don't think I could stand living in the 'flatlands'. I feel exposed, and breathe a sigh of relief when we travel back into 'my mountains'. I miss them just like I miss a family member. But the county where I live is not nearly as IN the mountains as the area where I traveled this evening.
I remember growing up in a small mountain town, where things change so slowly. It was a good time, but when I think of it, I also feel a sense of desperation. I don't quite know how to describe it. Maybe it was just me and MY feeling of desperation, not so much the place or time or age, just me. But either way, I felt that again tonight and it almost brought me to tears.
People who live in cities cannot imagine the good or the bad that a tween or teen living in a small mountain town feels. There is no comparison. The two beings--the city kid and the small town kid--are only alike in that they breathe air and have appendages and stuff. They have very little else in common. I have been both, and although I felt that desperation again tonight, I would much rather be the small town kid.
So there is my random thought of melancholy tonight!