A cowboy in the city

I'll be drinking city whiskey and chasin' it with country wine. (Apologies to The Low Anthem.)

So you're moving to the city? You're so country. I can't imagine you living in the city. How many people have said that to me now? Are you keeping your truck? I can't imagine John without his truck. What about Bob?

Yeah, I'm asking myself the same questions. Yes, keeping the truck. And the dog, too. But wondering about moving where I can, in my own father's words, hear it when the neighbor flushes the toilet.

Won't be sitting on a rock in the orchard on a hot summer's night, sipping a cold one, pondering life, and looking for shooting stars. Or going out my back door in the winter wearing a pair of snow shoes.

It's going to be a different life, all right, but hopefully a better one. That's what I'm telling the kids, at least, and I'm sticking to my story. Life changes, hopefully for the better, and one chapter closes while another one opens up.

Sue and I will wake up together every day, doing the day-to-day, for better or for worse.

There's a cheaper and shorter commute. Right now it's at least three hours a day and $300 a month with the train pass and parking. In the city I'll walk five minutes to the T for a 30 minute ride to my office. All for $72.

The rent and bills will be less, because Sue and I will be splitting the bill.

There's more to do in the city. I start music lessons in Harvard Square the same day we move in. Museums, concerts, schools, and stores are all closer, and urban life in general is richer than suburban life. This isn't just for me, but for the kids, too. Al is looking forward to a place where she and her friends can drive up from school to stay while in Boston. The other one is growing and maturing faster than you can imagine. She needs more stimulation than that mall to keep that brain of hers in gear.

There will a different, but just as strong, family life. Sue likes the kids and vice versa. There might be some stability in our lives that's been lacking. And Sue and I have different values than what the girls have been used to. Al calls us free spirits. There might not be cable. Instead lots of books and music. The ocean will be nearby. Well, Quincy Bay, if you want to get technical, but it's salty.

So, yeah, if Steve Earle can leave Guitar Town for Greenwich Village, I guess I can have some concrete under my boots for a while. It's not forever. Nothing's forever, that much I know.

Still, I'd like to hear those coyotes a few more times, and that hoot owl, before I load up the truck one last time.