I love that our smallish suburb has streets lined with every kind of church you could imagine and houses that are old enough to tell some stories. I love that open fields and the middle of nowhere are within a 10-minute drive.
But let's be honest, what would this girl do if I didn't have a Publix, and Old Navy, and urban surroundings on the other end of a short highway trip?
That being said, something caught my eye today that made me want to reach out and give the town of Simpsonville and all of it's citizens a giant Christmas hug. It's these folk (n. a small-town word for people).
January 4th, and they are holding out strong. Wreaths and garland and Christmas cheer to boot.
I feel like I cheated the holiday season a bit this year. I didn't exactly have our decorations down December the 26th, but it was only because our six-week old beauty didn't see fit. With a newborn thrown into the already busy holiday mix, I woke up one day and felt like this December was quickly leaving me in it's dust. And I had few new moments to recall in my memoirs. Overwhelmed with disappointment, I was sort of bah-hum-bug by the time we collapsed on the couch Christmas night, after a parade of family gatherings.
So today when I drove by their dreamy house, and then turned the car around to drive by again, I received an unexpected shot in the arm of holiday blessing. Christmas lives in our small town.
And we can't forget this guy. Red is definitely his color.
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