News From The Small Town (Tara Taylor Quinn)

I don't eat McDonald's hamburgers or french fries. I don't drink their shakes or have chicken sandwiches or desserts. But for years, I had part of a McDonald's bagel for breakfast almost every morning. Not because I needed the bagel. But because McDonald's was the only fast food place close to my daughter's apartment and I drove down to have breakfast with her every morning.

When I moved to this small town six months ago, the hardest part about leaving home was leaving my daughter behind. She's grown. Has a life of her own. She doesn't need her mama buying her breakfast anymore. No, now, her mama needs her. But that's the way it is with kids. They're all in with you, demand every waking brain wave you possess, and then they go away to college and forget to call. It's a natural process. One that completely and totally sucks, in my humble opinion, but still a process that's been in place a lot longer than I have.

Understanding that, I move to this town because this is where life after Rachel has led me and while I'm head over heels in love with my new husband, I still miss that grown up kid. So in the mornings, after my husband goes to work, I take myself the few blocks to McDonald's and order my bagel and diet coke and linger as long as I can over my few bites of bagel, remembering. Loving.

And then, just a few weeks after I arrived, I drive by McDonald's one day and the place is gone. That's right. Just gone. My shock was so great this is actually the second time I've blogged about it! But this week, on Monday at 11 am to be exact, McDonald's re-opened. It's on the same property, but the building is brand new. Much larger. More modern than the twenty-five year old structure that was demolished. It's back.

I was so relieved, comforted by this, that I almost had dinner there last night! As some kind of reverent thank you for not deserting me. I didn't. I still don't eat McDonald's hamburgers and french fries. But I seriously considered it. Funny how some things are a comfort just because they are.

There was a robbery in town yesterday. Everyone says the perp had to be an out of towner. I wonder about that. Do they honestly think that no one in their town is bad? Or is just that, in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, they'd know who dun it if he was from here? My husband says that if he were from here, he'd have known better than to rob the place he did. He'd have gotten away with a lot more money if he'd hit one of any number of other places.

And...my construction skills have improved. I helped lay the porch floor on Sunday. Really helped. I was in charge of all the screws in the framing. Screwing them, not handing them. After that I laid boards. And then...new skill alert!!!...I learned how to use the nail gun. Now those things are cool. Beyond cool. It's kind of big and I thought it would be too heavy for me to manouver but I have this habit of underestimating myself. I love to shoot guns. Have been getting quite a bit of practice at it this summer up at our cabin (but that's another story) and now I can shoot guns and build things at the same time. And there's something eminently satisfying about that little air filled kick back when you pull the trigger and a nail is embedded completely in the wood. I could put in three nails in five seconds. I'm thinking this bodes well for that bathroom that has to be built on the new house before Thanksgiving.

The second book in my Ivory Nation trilogy, Behind Closed Doors, is coming out at the end of this month. It's a suspense/thriller about a couple of victims of white supremacists. It's set in Tucson, Arizona and I'm thinking the subject matter is as far away from this small town as I am from my daughter. Think again. I overheard some conversation last week. There's a group, similar to the KKK, that meets right in the next town. Some folks from this town attend meetings. Just goes to show you that the only thing small about a small town is the idea that opportunities are limited.

I met the mayor. He was my husband's little league coach. A few years ago. He told us that the city has allocated the money for a sidewalk and curb to be put along the street where we just bought our new/old house. The sidewalk will connect that street to the bike/rollerblading path that runs from the new high school outside of town all the way downtown. It's like this little town provided specifically for my needs! I know it didn't, of course. But then, why not? Isn't that how life works? If we listen to our hearts and act upon what we find there, the universe finds a way, people to work through, to give us what we need.

There's a lock box on our house. We listed it for sale this week. The realtor said he'd give us our combination if we wanted him to. Everyone in the business has it. I'm wondering why, in this small town, we don't just put a key under the mat.

But then, there was that robbery...

Guess I'll head off to McDonald's for a few bites of breakfast. Tell me, does anyone else have comforts like this? Or am I just a closet McDonald's addict and don't know it???