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Country-Style Valet Parking

Last night Kevin, Charlie and I made the trek to a little teeny town to attend the reception of an old friend of ours. We drove down an old road in farm country to a lovely abode, where the reception was held in the backyard.

As we pulled in, a smiling gentleman in a baseball cap and cowboy boots greeted us and told us he'd park our car for us (the parking lot was a grassy field, by the way). I have never been somewhere that had valet parking, so I asked where we could pick up our keys later on. He responded, "I'll just leave them in the car for you."

I was dumbfounded, and Kevin just smiled, kissed my forehead, and said, "We're in a small town, love."

I'd forgotten what that felt like.

The reception was lovely, simple, happy. The bride and groom couldn't be more beautiful, but in a perfectly un-flashy, sincere way. The country backdrop, setting sun, mooing cows, and fresh earth smell was entirely relaxing. Several folks asked us where we were from, because they didn't know who we were and we must've been from out of town. We paused for a moment to swing on the swings and survey the countryside. Time seemed to slow down.

I'd forgotten what that felt like, too.

I remembered last night what it's like to trust people, what it's like to feel safe with your car being left open, what it's like to enjoy nature and good company. I oughta visit small towns more often. I oughta make small-town-culture more a part of my life.

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