New York. London. Utah.

While driving after picking Reilly up from preschool, I decided to take the long way home. The interstate was backlogged due to some construction traffic, and given the option of moving at 10 mph on the freeway or taking a longer route through the countryside... Well, let's just say that I will pick the country roads every time, even if it ends up taking longer.

I love living in the country. It is something I never pictured myself doing, having grown up on the outskirts of Chicago and seeing myself (then) as a city girl for life. I love so many things about city life. The culture, the architecture, the food, the pulse that you can almost feel in the air. When I look back on my favorite memories from my high school years-- so many of them involve taking the train downtown with my friends, whether it was to hit the beach or spend an afternoon soaking in the beauty at the Art Institute. It's funny how life's twists and turns can lead you to places you never anticipated, and yet are simply meant to be.

As I took the old Arrowhead trail back into town with the kids, I reveled in the scenery around me. Old farmhouses, windmills, greenhouses, horses & cows, fields as far as the eye could see-- all majestically framed by the spectacular mountain splendor.

"I love living in the country," I suddenly blurted out to Taylor & Reilly. "Isn't it beautiful here?"
"Yes, Mom, I like the country too!" Taylor agreed.
"Did you know that Mom used to live by a really big city when she was little?" I continued, "With lots of really tall buildings and trains..."
"And airplanes and cars?" Taylor interrupted.
"Yep." I replied. "I really loved living by the city, but you know... I think I love living in the country even more."
"I love the country too, Mom," he replied.
"Me too!" chimed Reilly.

As we rounded the turn off the old country road and came into town, I could tell Taylor was recognizing the familiar surroundings. I looked at our little downtown with new eyes, seeing the wonderful old brick stores, the park with its amphitheater, the old homes with their beautiful gardens exploding with the produce of Indian Summer.

"Do you know where we are, Taylor?" I asked.

"Yes, Mom...
ummmmmmm...Paris!" came the response.

Well, in his defense, both cities do begin with a P at least.

After I stopped laughing and corrected him, I couldn't help but look around again.
Architecture, culture, food? And more importantly, a community of neighbors that truly looks out for and loves one another?

We've got it all right here.

Paris has got nothing on us.