For 19 years I lived in the same house and slept in the same bedroom. A person gets used to the peaceful lifestyle of country living after that long. After 6 years of living in different cities and trying to appreciate all that is offered, such as convenience and excitement, I still long for a rural life. Sometimes when I'm lying in bed at night I remember what it was like growing up. I can still hear the wind moving through the tress in the forest behind my house that used to scare me so much at night. I could hear the wind approaching my yard as it moved each tree one by one, like they were doing the wave at a sporting event. It was always most noticeable at night. After a night of baby-sitting at my neighbours I would walk home and relish the sound - of course then I would start to imagine all the animals that hid in the shadows of those enchanted trees and who's sounds were masked and I would run home as fast as I could, careful not to run into the ditch at the edge of the yard in case one of those said animals were hiding there.

In the winter it would be a different story. The forest would be silent except for the sound of ice and snow falling from branches. Of course, then I would assume that those sounds could be a lone coyote stalking through the trees. If the moon was full and there was a blanket of snow on the ground I wouldn't need light from a flashlight or a porchlight, since ample light was provided.

Mornings always held a peacfulness to them and being afraid of night sounds seemed so silly to me then. I would wake up to the inviting aroma of fresh baked bread and pies and the sound of my Dad washing a big bowl in the bakery sink directly below my bedroom. I could always tell by the sound when he was washing the big plastic bowls, the big stainless steel bowls, or various mixing spoons. These sounds and smells would be most prominent in the summer time of course, when he was busiest. That time of year other smells and sounds would permeate my lungs when I stepped outside. The constant flow of tractors from the different farmers around the neighbourhood would present the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay or the not-so-sweet smell of fresh manure. The strangest thing of all is that I, unlike so many people, never liked the smell of fressh hay, but didn't mind the smell of manure (I wouldn't say I like it though). When I was quite young I would be slightly excited when I heard a tractor approaching and hoped that it might be one of the Forman boys..I had a crush on each of them at one point, even though they weren't always that nice to me when playing with my brother.

It's different now. As I lie in bed I can sometimes hear wind, but it's mixed with the sound of sirens, people from bars laughing and yelling, and car alarms. The lights from the big hotel across the street cast a different glow than the moon and I fear a different kind of animal in the shadows. I've had to sift through the human-made distractions to find different sounds and smells to save in my memory. Now I hear the sound of ocean waves crashing on rocks, rain dripping from giant fir trees, and seaguls calling for food. I smell salt water, fresh fish and pine sap. And the thing that makes this all most enjoyable is that I have a crush on a different boy and he's quite nice to me.