There is something to be said for observing the small nuances of a new place. It’s lovely to be able to point to the few subtle differences from town to town. Though so much is standard, predictable, understood, each group of people lives together in a unique way. Community.
This new town is quaint. If you live in the village, you can walk just about anywhere. Sidewalks lead to the Post Office, the bank, the local diner, even Walmart. Churches tower at every corner. Presbyterian. Free Methodist. Catholic. United Methodist–all within blocks of one another. Many of these establishments have historical value, all of them unique in their architecture. Steeples touch the clouds. Brick lines the walls. Stone covers the sidewalks.
And one of these churches has bells that chime, announcing the hour with music. The first ring is 8am. Then at 9am, noon, and 6pm the chiming is accompanied by a hymn or two. Sometimes I sing along. Other times I don’t notice its song. And every Sunday at 8am, two different churches have bells ding-ding-dinging in a sort of a battle of the bells escapades.
I’m sure there will come a day when I won’t pay much notice to these bells. I will have their songs ingrained in my daily rhythm. But for now, I smile.
It’s lovely, living in a small town.