Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Bluebell Alabama

Hart of Dixie has become my favorite show since it first aired last season, and since then it's become more than my Tuesday night TV for me, it's become the hour I enter into a portal and live out my secret dream of being a small town girl. Silvia often comes over and we eat dinner, chat and drink wine, but ultimately we turn the t.v. on for an episode that will unfold in a little town called Bluebell. We day dream and say things like "I would be more like Lemon than Zoe" and "I hate the Ruby, I would never be friends with her and she doesn't belong there," or the ever popular "Wade is so hot...Wade is so hot..." I'm not much into these "girly" shows as some of my friends in the masculine persuasion would categorize, because I would much rather watch a gender neutral show like Modern Family and the Family Guy. You know, a comedy because if you're going to watch someone's life unfold before your eyes, it might as well be funny, and besides, it's just T.V.

I am a big town girl, cities, major towns, metropolis, the hub, whatever you call it, I have never actually lived in a small town. I imagine it to be this, the major of the the town lives in the biggest historical home there is, kind of like the White House where the old major would move out if ever he was fallen from grace with the towns people and a new major is elected. However, that would never happen because we all know him, he is the most loving, upright citizen of them all and he gets re-elected every two years as a formality. He would know each family and what our concerns are in our town as well our personal life. Then, he would protect our way of life and continue to perpetuate the age old traditions that mark the long slow turning of the calendar months in a small town.

In that small town, there is a pavilion with a gazebo and many a folk have been married here, but most of the time, it is a place of central meeting and gatherings, the town center. There are columns and columns of small mom and pop shops that are squished right next to one another, where you have to stop by a different shop to purchase beer, clothes, hardware and meat, unlike the super Target erected in my "town." Sometimes, I will forget my wallet, more times then I'd like to admit, but it's hard with a any case, the shop keeper will know my name and jot down what I owe so later that evening, my husband will stop by the shop on the way home from work and payout that account.

There are out door weddings, parades, traditional dances, pie eating contests, annual chili making competitions and when there is nothing else on the docket of festivals, you are just making Sunday dinner for the large extended family that also live in your town. It's a place where girls are girls and boys are boys, there are manners, prudent conduct, and things are simple.  The doctors know your medical history because he delivered you and your parents! The law is erected and enforced to actually protects its citizens and not to fine them because of the end of the month quotas are due. I've always wanted to live in a place where every one knows your business but you'd never be truly ashamed because there isn't much trouble you  can get into, but if you did, the town loves your regardless. There is no disowning in Bluebell...well, only socially but that's all part of small town shenanigans.


White wings glistening in the silvery winter dusk flutter and glide as the ice queen makes her entrance into her ice castle.
She sits in shallow water, spanning lengths a child can count, it is murky and ordinary, but her fortress is her beauty and unavailability.
Lowered head in contemplation and rest, mostly alone, but if ever someone or something is near, it is her kin, her lover, her family.
There is no trusting the rest of the world and the world only desires to admire with no means to harm. This swan only has eyes for her ugly ducklings who will grow up into the same fate as she, with very glimpse, awes of wonder sighs.
Content in the small waters that encircle her into safety, she is calm and rested in her little ones that swim about.

In the slow crawl of the dawn fog at her feet, a deer in her slender figure quickens her heart, quickens her ears.
She stand still in distrust of the world, to find it's secure moment to drink from a small still brook. Innocent as a deer, feeble as a doe, her strong legs will carry her far when danger lurks near.
Emerging from the trees that hide her slender figure, she stands still then makes mad dashes to her destination, her destiny.
Danger of being seen, even only for a glimpse, her heart pounds until she is unseen again.

She walks in beauty...the poem reads, and she is the object of unabashed and unrighteous affections too young and too innocent to be the target for. She cringes, she bites he lip and rejects as though accusations made at her.
She walks in oblivion...unknown to her that she is being ever watched and imitated. Slight crook of her mouth and a slight raise of her eyes to meet yours ruins all reality into dreams. Slight down cast of her face, and the light goes out of her eyes, makes people wonder, "is it me that made her so?"
She walks in roles...she knows not of. Leadership, sisterhood, kindred spirit and muse, intimidating and casting away approaches and extension of longevity in loyalty. Sabotage and crumbles often befalls her walk.

She is afraid and anxious of the hurt everyone will eventually feel. There is just human underneath her clothes, air, talk and walk. Whatever you see, she does not see, whatever you feel, she does not feel of herself. Come, see closely and know, accept her for the normal and ordinary she is. Do not turn your face and be disappointed she is not a star but a moon rock fallen from the sky, just as you, an ordinary rock. Frailty of human falls on her too.