The Finer Things

I, like probably most people in this world, take the little things in life for granted; things that we never give a second thought. I suppose that some may appreciate running water, working plumbing, or even the taste of ice cream on a hot summer day. But for most of us, we just don’t consider the little things in life as a luxury. I grew up in a middle class suburb with practically every material item I could want. Maybe that is why I simply considered certain things a given; that it was a right to have water flow from the faucet when you turn the knob. I didn’t really know anyone in my young life that struggled to survive. I am sure that I saw these people every day and I just hadn’t realized their struggles. Just part of growing up with affluent family and friends.

When I first moved to West Virginia I was exposed to a different way of life but I still did not fully comprehend the difficulties of simply living to survive. Then I met my second husband, Pat. I have no idea now what it was that really attracted me to him. He was just a backwoods, country boy raised in a poor but good family. He wasn’t rich but he certainly was no longer poor. That is why I was surprised to see his home. It was actually more like a shack. The outside was just insulation; the inside was simply particle board. The bathroom had no bathtub or shower, a broken toilet and a sheet for a door. That is why it is so amazing that this spoiled, city girl decided to share my life in this ramshackle home.

The land that the house sat on was breathtakingly beautiful, totally isolated from the outside world. I would take walks through the meadows, through the woods and to a point where I swear you could touch the clouds. I spent hours sitting on the peak of our mountain convening with nature, trying to find myself. Or maybe I was trying to escape the hardships of living in a home with barely running water, a husband that was so much more charming at first sight and a past to overcome.

Maybe I did find myself during my years of isolation. I realized that living like I was a neighbor to Mary Ingalls was not the life I had foreseen. Living with a man who turned out to be emotionally devoid of compassion and lacking the intelligence I yearned for finally convinced me to move back to the city. Now that I am in the metropolis (okay so Charleston, WV is not that big) I have come to appreciate the finer things in life: a flushing toilet, running water and stores within walking distance.