The road to peace, fairy tales and Pride and Prejudice

Posted: May 9, 2014 in Uncategorized

As most of you already know by now, Matt and I have been renting a house in Sioux Falls for about a month now. We love our new home and the fact that we don’t have to commute anymore, but me being a “small town girl,” the traffic, noise and overall atmosphere, are still difficult to get used to. Most tell me I will get used to it and barely notice it anymore, but I’m skeptical. Not only have I grown up in the country/extremely small town all my life, but I have always treasured the quiet and peace found outside of the city. The air is sweeter, the noise, practically non-existent except for the occasional car (which in Britton, everyone stares at to see if they know the person or not), dog singing the song of its people or, in my case, a cow mooing (in the country, not Britton you jerks! :P)

In Sioux Falls, we hear every jet take off like its rolling thunder, every car whiz by as if they have somewhere extremely important to be and I swear every night I hear sirens before bed (a little unsettling). There is one (known so far) sanctuary in the middle of chaos that I have found while on my early evening walks with Molly. It’s just a short stroll from my neighborhood, a mere 3 or 4 blocks. It is literally where the sidewalk ends and the clamor of the city completely ceases. Well, the noise almost ceases except for the occasional soft breeze and the various conversations between birds. It is a little neighborhood just to the right of the busy street. It’s a neighborhood full of winding pavements, shading forests, an abundance of flowers and just where I need to be after a day of navigating a foreign place.

Alright, so before you gentlemen and oh so few ladies roll your eyes at the title of this narrative of mine, just remember I’m a romantic at heart and love to gaze wistfully into the history of simpler times. I have read the novel, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, but I almost shamefully admit that my heart belongs more to the 2005 film (and no, not just to sigh at Mr. Darcy and his “You have bewitched me body and soul and I love, I love, I love you”). It is the imagery, the serene and simple, yet dramatic, melody behind the scenes, the quest for love and marriage, the importance of family, the absolutely delicious history behind the plot and the wonderful aspects of nature. I love every minute of the film and have practically memorized its lines.

Strolling down this lovely lane hidden among the disorder reminds me of this film for many reasons. The only noise is the chirping of the birds. The houses are hidden among the flowers and forest of trees. The homes – absolutely divine. Don’t get me wrong, I could never own such a home, or should I say mansion, but the characteristics remind me of a wealthier class in England. Some even take me away to fairy tales with vines climbing the exterior walls, the gardens in full bloom and trees in every corner. I expect Snow White to come bursting out a few of the homes and begin singing of her dream prince. For the most part, however, when I take a stroll down this road, I feel as if I am Elizabeth Bennet taking one of her many walks that so pleases her. Then, suddenly, a vehicle zooms on by, a siren screams in pursuit of crime and I am back in the present, the chaos, the disorder, the unsettling noise. Yes, I have finally looped all the way around and am returning home. Someday, I hope to return to peace and the silence once more to have my fairy godmother turn me not into the sparkling Cinderella, but into the second eldest Bennet daughter, one who “had a playful and lively disposition which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

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Comments
  1. Jamie Thornhill says:

    We must be kindred souls Nessa. As I read your blog, it felt like something I would write. Jane Austen is my favorite, and I often daydream about the English countryside and visiting Pemberley and all the other wonderful places from her novels. Finding that solace or special place amidst the chaos is truly important because it grounds us. Hulett was very much the same as Britton, and while I do miss the simplicity of riding my bike to grandma Norma’s house to play Canasta, life does move on. Savor the memories.

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