The Wave


When I moved to New York City from North Carolina I found peace in Central Park. I used to run there every morning unless the digital thermometer above Columbus Circle read below 20 degrees.


People in New York have routines. Even now, nearly 30 years later, I run into the same people in my coffee shop, butcher and local grocery all the time and while I don't know them personally, we are silently familiar to one another.


When I'd run around the Reservoir deep into the winter months only the stalwarts remained. I would pass them in nearly the same spot every day and while I would recognize them and they would me, we'd never acknowledged it. Not a nod. Not a "hey." Not a word. Not a wave.


One of my favorite things about living in the country is the opposite of that. I get "hey." I get hugs in the grocery store. I get a bunch of "Aren't you Farm Girl?" Folks check in on my donkeys and ask me how many chickens I have left. How's the honey running? What's next on your farm? Did your tomatoes do well this year?


The best part of this "hey" culture, for me, is the wave. You pass a car on country road and four fingers unwrap themselves from the steering wheel and point upward to comment on your passing. Sometimes the hand even comes off the wheel and actually waves hello. Neighbors. Strangers. Friends. Acquaintances. All.


The wave is where it's at. Come to the country and try out your wave! Is it meek? Is it royal? Is it subtle? They all work. Give it a go.


XOXO Farm Girl

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