On the street where I live

The little girl across the street is riding her bicycle in endless circles. I think she is bored. I sit on my glider, gently rocking in the breeze. I’m watching the birds who have discovered the many feeders I put out and Batman is working his way through a pig’s foot (not the kind you buy in a pet store, but one from the butcher).
This is nothing like the street I grew up on. For one thing, we didn’t call what I lived on a street. It was a road, Mull Road to be exact, named because the family who owned most of the land along the road was named Mull. There were four houses on our road and I could only see one of them from our house, and even that one wasn’t close. My closest friend lived about 4 miles away. Town was 10 miles away and if we wanted to go to the ‘city’ that was about an hour.
I road my horse everywhere. I road him into Rockville and Marshall, around the endless country roads and to my friends’ houses. I road him fishing. I actually didn’t spend a lot of time playing with other kids. Before I had a driver’s license my mom would have had to driven me to see anyone, unless they were within horse-back riding distance. I don’t remember feeling deprived.
I spent countless lazy summer afternoons sitting in trees reading books and figuring out elaborate systems to pull food and drinks up into the tree with me. My dog was never tied up, as there wasn’t anyplace he was going to get into trouble and there were no neighbors who complained about barking. Once though, the sheriff’s department tracked down my dad while we were at the county fair to let him know our pigs were out.
Now I can count 10-15 houses from my glider. Although, at leas this is a very quiet neighborhood. I’m the only person who has figured out it is quieter and more private in the front yard as everyone else has made their hideaways in their backyards. I have the front of the street to myself.
In some ways, this is a more convenient life for sure. I can hop in the car and be at any number of stores or restaurants in a matter of minutes. If I forget something when I’m at the store, it’s no big deal, I can hop in the car and go out again. But, there are no trees to climb. In the upscale suburbs no one wants to mow around low hanging branches. All the trees are tall and straight and any low branches have been long ago hacked off. I don’t let my dog run loose. There are other dogs in the neighborhood, not to mention cars. On the road I grew up on our deaf cat laid in the middle of the road and never got run over.
I do miss the country, even though its been 25 years since I lived anyplace remotely country looking. I wish I lived there again, but sometimes now I wonder if I’ve been away from the total silence and darkness too long. I could have my horse with me, but have I become too lazy to go back to actually caring for a large animal on a daily basis. When I travel I’m used to just finding someone to take care of the dog and cats and maybe throw the fish some food. It’s harder to find someone to care for a horse. But, the thought of growing old on this street or even another one like it makes me feel somewhat ill. I’m like the little girl going in circles on her bike, but going no where.