Two of my good friends moved out of the county last week, heading for the warmer land of Florida. They sold their house to a couple (from Florida, of course) and left to be closer to his family. They have a number of children and grandchildren there, a fact that likely influenced their decision.

As I helped them get ready to move over the past few weeks, carrying trash away and getting a few donations for myself along the way, I started thinking about all the things we accumulate. As I put away the things they gave to me, I also noticed how many things I have accumulated just in the past year or so. It always amazes me how things pile up.

At the same time, I was saddened to see my friends leave. As they drove away and I watched their vehicles disappear over the hill, I must admit a degree of envy at the thought of taking off, leaving the familiar behind and embarking on a new life in a brand new place. I also like to imagine living in a new house in a new neighborhood, having a new climate and new opportunities.

The idea held my attention for awhile, but I soon realized how much I revel in the familiar. Familiar means comfortable and comfortable means safe.

Anyone who has lived in an area like these mountains for long realizes something — it really is nice to live in a place where everybody knows your name. It’s harder to stick your foot in your mouth when you already know who was married to whom and where not to talk politics. But if you’re me, it’s still not impossible.

I also appreciate knowing what kind of haircut I will get each time I walk into the local barber shop and where most of the trout stocking points are. I can skirt the main roads on tiny dirt roads that people from other places couldn’t even find.

Just being able to know how things are and how they work here, I also get the benefit of watching them change. Well, sometimes it’s a benefit. Other times, it seems more painful than beneficial. Like watching the banks of the New River change over the past 20 years from a wilderness to a campground. Or seeing many of the familiar downtown stores go out of business.

I also like watching other people’s children grow. That way, I can say things like, “I remember when he was just knee-high to a grasshopper.” People usually have a genuinely surprised look on their face. I know how they feel. Even though it is an unchanging reality, I don’t think anyone really expects to grow old. Sadly, more and more of the folks I knew as a child seem to be gone.

Many of the kids are gone, too. The vast majority of them don’t return to the land of their birth, at least not until they are ready to retire. Those folks who remain, the ones I once knew as ‘older’ people, don’t seem so old any more. Our ages are growing closer together instead of further apart as we face this common condition called life.

I looked at a class reunion photo and had a hard time telling the teacher from the students. But we’re all students here.

I sometimes wonder what it’s like to return home to find out that most of the people you knew are dead or gone. For those of us who never left, it is more like slowly watching the seasons change. To everything there is a season, I know, but sometimes it is hard to let go of the autumn and take hold of the winter. And it seems like the older I get, the faster the seasons change. Wasn’t it spring just a little while ago? And more recently, where did all the leaves go?

No matter what happens in our lives, we can always depend on a few constants. Things change slowly in these mountains, but they do change. That’s likely all the excitement I need.

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