Walking in Small Towns

I'm in the beautiful old German town of Bethlehem, PA for a 3-day Suzuki workshop.  After dinner this evening, I went for a walk on the brick sidewalks, in the untamed green coming up through the cracks and over the fences, guarding the centuries old buildings.  I walked through Lexinginton, KY my first home away from home, and I walked through Madison, WI, my second and slightly more distant one.  I remembered the expansiveness of finally living in a different city, the curiosity of finding all its nooks and crannies and quirks.  And how quiet it was.  

Walking felt like stepping out of a cocoon that had been holding me in place and molding me.  Freedom maybe, but discomfort, too.  Without the constraints of a city and millions of people, what's to keep me from drifting away in a place like this?  When I moved to those smaller towns 10 years ago, I was happily drifting, and happy to be taken away on some new adventure.  And now, for some reason, I have this adult idea that I should be building something, and I'm busying myself with searching for the materials.

 I'm curious to make a move to a place similar from my past, and yet for the time that I've covered, now very different.  I walked to the edge of a park, found the local library, ventured to peak at the Japanese Serenity Garden.  Perhaps that curiosity is still there, just a little stretching needed in a bigger space.