Shannon Moon's Blog

Life As I Know It

Shannon Moon

Shannon Moon
Ruraltopia, Pennsylvania, USA
December 31
I am a librarian, teacher, writer, philosopher, mother, daughter, granddaughter, perpetual student, recluse and lover of literature and music. What else is there? Really. I can be found here:


JANUARY 28, 2013 4:09PM

I Can Still Hope

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I have become completely obsessed with moving far, far away from my current Ruralopolis-Bible-Belt. As I lie awake, my mind dreams of . . .


walking trails. . .grocery stores less than two miles from my home (now it’s at least 9 miles). . .concerts and museums. . .libraries and educational programming. . .camps and kids events. . .stores and cutlural events. . .movie theatres and live shows. . .universities and schools (better than we have here). . .sports and recreation centers. . .friends and coffee shops. . .


food in my refrigerator. . .cottage cheese and hummus and cream cheese and orange juice and grape juice. . .drawers full of fresh fruits and veggies. . .frozen veggies and fruits and pizza and Haagen Dazs ice cream in my freezer. . .homemade breads and cookies on my counter. . .my clean, uncluttered counter. . .


a backyard not full of cows and equipment or the smell of aged manure. . .


neighbors and fellow shoppers not dressed in dirty jeans and t-shirts. . .and without the ubiquitous dirty nails and snotty-nosed kids with sticky faces. . .


I day dream of how I would decorate my home. . .the colors and textures and smells and sounds. . .Bach or Led Zepplin or Janis Joplin or Counting Crows. . .and not cow manure on my sheets from an errand dog jumping on my bed after leaving the barn without the cumbersome step of being washed as they are let inside. . .


and of people that cannot imagine this even being an issue.


I worry that my child will not survive the journey. . .at least not spiritually. . . I imagine the mean girls and irreverent boys. . .the substandard education system. . .the world without her current enrichment program. I fear she hates the new place, the new people, the new school, the new life. 


But I dream of this place. . .full of adventure and hope. . .not waited down with ignorance and poverty and the lack of a sense of anything beyond itself. . .where people encourage their children to reach into themselves and see through their current circumstances. . .into a future wide-open and full of wonder. 


Does such a place exist? 



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It's the first day of classes of my last semester of grad school. I think it's gotten to me, somehow.