Day twenty six: photographs, or small-town life as still life

I live in a small town.  I mean really small, as in one traffic light and no post office small. It has its good points I suppose.  The city allows mom to keep livestock because the land we live on has apparently been farmland since the beginning of time .  This makes her happy which is good enough for me.  My dad tolerates the sheep, unfortunately for him he is well and truly a city boy.  The town I live in has no sidewalks, a fact that puts me in constant contention with the local police.  Apparently they believe that just because the town has no sidewalks I should remain safely in my yard at all times and not venture down the road at all for any reason.  They still have not managed to convince me to comply.  I don’t know everyone in town by name but that is mostly because I didn’t go to school with them in part due to the fact that the local high school wanted no part of my attendance.  I went to the next closest high school which ironically enough was a whole different social stratosphere.  To say that I didn’t fit in is quite the understatement.  The children I went to school with were upper-middle-class snobs for the most part, though there were a few exceptions thank goodness.  The fact that I went to a different school then most of the kids in town made it slightly awkward. By the time I got to high school I was the only disabled person in town.  I still am to the best of my knowledge.  Most of the kids who he used to live here have scattered to the four corners of the earth, or at least an hour or two away from here.  My younger sister used to invite people over here for bonfires.  I was at least good acquaintances with most of them and good friends with some.  Most of them promised vehemently that they would remember to come visit me since it was unlikely that I could come to them because I can’t drive.  Four years later, maybe almost 5, I have heard from may be three out of the dozen who promised to keep in touch.  Small-town life is often romanticized.  I’m had to tell you that not all small towns bear any resemblance to Mayberry.  One of these days I will find a way out of here, and when I do, I want regret leaving or miss it much at all.

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