Small Town Charm. Chinook Washington
Anytime my cell phone rings it’s 1 of 2 people. 1) Our realtor calling us from Nebraska with another extremely low offer on our house or 2) the library recording telling me our books are overdue. Their so nice to remind me, I just wish they’d make that call a day sooner some times.
So when I saw a local number come up on my cell phone i was completely baffled. I don’t know many people here. I know even less who would call me.
Reluctantly I picked up the phone, “He…hello?”, not sure who was going to be on the other end.
“Hey Amber, this is the post office. I have a package here for you, do you want me to just drop it off at All Seasons Kidstuff for you?”
Well all be a monkeys uncle! How did they have my number? How did they know my name? How did they know where I work? How did they know I wasn’t going to make it to the post office today? How the…?
I’m sure they were wondering why such a long pause from me, but it took a while to grasp what was happening here. After remembering that I now live in a town that barely has two gas pumps, no school, and the only reason people slow down is because the speed limit goes from 55 to 35, I gladly accepted the post ladies offer.
Coming from the girl who’s dream was to live inside New York City, seriously…what was wrong with me.
I am amazed at how much I am in love with small communities.
The sweet lady who sales $5 bouquets of flowers grown from her font lawn.
The lavender lattes that come out of the small coffee shop near the port.
The ‘general store’ that is more of a fishing store then anything else.
The one room building with coolers full of crabs and fresh seafood where you watch them hack and filet todays catch just outside their door.
The “kids clothing store” that is also the storage unit rental place in town, the tanning salon and where you can buy anything from baby bibs to toothbrushes to designer purses.
Where there is always someone out for a stroll. Where the cute old couple sit down for a meal at the bar and grill and order breakfast items for dinner.
Where the post office knows your name, and probably many more details you wish they didn’t.
After a semi traumatic trip to Portland last week coming back to a little small town is so comforting and welcoming.