Stumbled upon.

Today I was attempting a sincere day of focused productivity. Life in rural Appalachia is somewhat on a different wavelength-- time is slow, nights often are quiet, small town bustling occurs at lunchtime around the local U.S. post office. I live near the town courthouse where the sheriff and the cops and city lawyers congregate in the building with heads stooped to the ground at 9 a.m. and then dismiss themselves with eyes and heads a wablin' around 4 p.m. Even Ben Franklin, the arts and crafts store deemed to stay alive by the community despite it's adversary- the grandose Walmart- sparkles with people throughout the day. People know each other by name..."Judy! Didn't I just see you in here just yesterday?" The definition of a regular. They don't go to shop, they go to be welcomed. I particularly cater to it's fabric section, where i slowly gravitate so each different store worker can reel me into the world of quilt-making. I can't sew great, I just secretly want to hear them speak about their passion, their roots, their love of quilting. Sorta like finding the spark to the fire, and then sharing in its flames. The few eclectic restaurants that exist come alive around 11 a.m, when the older, post-retiree coal miners and wives decide which cafe will subside their hunger for midday. The young, progressive workers at the restaurants take frequent smoke breaks. Always in groups-- they stare at me as i walk by, i return their kindness with a way-overtly widened smile. I know names, but nothing past the friendly hellos. We are fashionable, well-acquainted regular greeters. Nothing in common but our daily passing-bys. The outdoor enthusiasts with kayaks and rock climbing gear nestle their way to the Outdoor store, adjacent to the courthouse. They,too, are regulars. The one stop light to which the town revolves is a people-watching magnet of a haven. People praying, hoping they land on red light so for a moment, they can see the world unravel itself.

Have you ever seen such a thing unfold?