Monday, April 30, 2012
One World Trade Center
I enjoyed the sights in the big city, the wonderful food and shopping. I love to travel, but I was reminded that I'm a country girl at heart. No matter how many times I board a plane, train, or the automobile I always think there's no place like home. There was no space for a garden or for my grandchildren to run and play. I switched my purse for a small bag that I could cross over my chest to ensure my purse wasn't snatched. I don't concern myself with this issue when I'm at home in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The Manhattan and Queensborough bridges had nothing on the Shenandoah River that John Denver wrote about. The lines were so long for various things that I decided it wasn't worth the wait for items. The traffic was incredible, I had nightmares of yellow cabs running over me.
No matter how much money I'm offered for a salary, I could never live in a place that has more asphalt than grass and more people than cars. Trading in my high heels for Wellies was so worth it. There's no place like home, there's no place like home.