I used to think that the idea of living with wide open spaces around my home was horrible.  When I thought about it I would immediately turn back to what I was familiar with – homes, buildings, walls, fences  …  all nearby.  They gave me a sense of security, something solid close by, surrounding me.  In my mind it did.

I moved here a year ago.  I have a wonderful view from the front of my home.  Nothing but trees, bushes, a small mountain a few miles away, and a few miles farther, a low mountain range.  I absolutely love the view.  Absolutely.  And out the back, nothing but view as well.  Not as spectacular as the front, but it is amazingly beautiful in the evening when the sun sets.

What is missing from these beautiful vantage points is walls. Other homes. Buildings.

And I was surprised to find that I don’t miss it.  I don’t feel the need for those things close by.  Turns out, it doesn’t offer the feeling of safety and security I thought it did.

So, for the past year, I have relished my views.  I go on and on about it every chance I get.  I pause for a moment and enjoy it when I pass by.

Then, about a month ago, the girls tell me there’s a truck on fire outside their window – which looks out the back of the house.  I run to see.  And there’s a truck parked in the empty lot behind us with a controlled burn nearby making it appear as though the truck was on fire.  They had leveled the area and were burning all the tree branches and shrubs.

Then they parked a motor home on one end.  And it appears as though someone will be building soon and we will lose our view out back.  And that makes me sad.  Horrible.

Funny how things change.  Our perspectives and opinions.  Our thoughts and ideals.

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