Up at Sunrise Alone at a Country Inn
I am awake before sunrise at a B&B four hours from home. We arrived at night, so all I know of this place is dark. But the chirping birds woke me up before the dawn even cracked, and now the sun is streaming through the window panes like high beams. I’m alone in the parlour with soft music playing from an adjacent room, surrounded by upholstered chairs and Tiffany lamps, potted plants and knickknacks made of brass and old wood. The shelves are stocked with classic board games, photography books and bits of Americana. Old movies, the holy Bible.
I’ve had the place to myself since six this morning, and it’s like heaven. I’ve got a coffee and a laptop and a bird’s-eye view of a tiny pond flanked by sunflowers. I don’t need anything else, but if someone were to ask, a scone painted with lemon curd would be lovely.
It’s moments like these when I ask myself if I could ever picture a different kind of life. A life of country drives and friendly neighbors who hang wreaths on their front doors, the kind that’s filled with juicy farm-stand peaches and antique fairs on Sundays. A big house with a wrap-around porch and a wooden swing, with unlocked doors and a soft carpet of green laid out on all sides. A life wrapped up in handmade quilts and leaned back on Adirondack chairs. A peaceful life.
The answer is probably not.
Truthfully, the answer is absolutely not.
I’ve lived in the city for 14 years now, and as much as I’d like to romanticize a life free of towering chrome and hot concrete, the city is home. I don’t exactly love crammed streets, claustrophobic subway cars or mounds of sidewalk garbage, but I also don’t know what I’d do without them. Like the tattoo on the face of the guy outside the 7-11 who hassles me for a Slurpee every morning, this filthy place has become a part of me.
We’ve spent a lot of time out of town this summer, and I’m actually itching to spend some Q-time in the Big Apple in these last few weeks of the season. I want to drink some overpriced cocktails and artisanal sandwiches.
I’m ready to be woken up by sirens. I want to look out my window and see the neighbor’s underwear flapping like sails on the clothesline. Bring the noise, bring the funk.
There’s only so much fresh air and peace and quiet a city girl can take.