I married a country boy. I lucked out.
He’s got all of that small town charm, and then some. He’s loyal and kind and traditional. He’s a keeper.
Being from the country also means that we have regular trips back to his home town to visit his parents who still live there.
It’s a quaint little place, with a little population, more than 400 kilometres from Melbourne. That’s 400 kilometres of entertaining the kids in the car…do not let this photo fool you!!!
There’s one main street, with a bakery and a post office. But it’s not about the shops (or lack of) it’s about the character. It’s about the people. It’s about the environment.
Our kids are born and bred in the city and there’s nothing wrong with that, but when we head to the bush, they get to live the country life, even if it’s just for a few days.
They explore. They breathe in clean air. They see stars. They listen to silence. They get to just be…free.
On this particular trip we settled in to watch a local footy match and during half time my beautifully shy 4.5 year old spotted a group of older boys kicking a football. He looked at me and asked if he could join in.
“Go for it” I said, expecting him to change his mind or ask for me to go with him.
But he didn’t. He ran onto the field leaving his inhibitions behind.
It summed up our weekend perfectly. A weekend of simple pleasures and a break from our normal lives and normal selves. Who doesn’t need that every once in a while.
Where do you escape to?