Moved From Major City to Rural Town; Not Lonely Like I Thought

Love made me leave behind a place right near my parents in Houston to join my partner in a town without a single restaurant.

I’d first met my partner a decade earlier, but we’d reconnected more recently — while long-distance — over a shared love of stories, coffee, and baseball.

From the beginning, it was clear that if we were to close the distance gap, it would be me who moved. I longed for a life closer to nature, away from the crowds, and where I could enjoy each season to the fullest — a life he was already living in rural Canada.

Although I did love my life in Houston and my proximity to family, I was ready for a change.

So, last summer, my brother drove me from Houston to a rural township in central Canada, marking my very last great American road trip. He returned to the nearest major airport, and with him went my last direct link to home.

I thought I’d be lonely and homesick, but my new life keeps me plenty busy, and Zoom calls help me manage the rest.

The first thing that struck me was the sense of community

Gone were the days of apartment isolation and cringing at every rare, uninvited knock at the door. Instead, this new life dropped me straight into an established household where friends routinely check on their neighbors.

I’d frequently visited the area before moving, so I knew a few of these folks already. Particular friends of my partner’s — Marcie and Dan, a retired couple with two beautiful yellow labs who live just down the street — made me promise to drop by for coffee as soon as I could manage after moving.

Marcie invited me to join her and her friend for bingo at the community center down the road. Not only did Marcie’s friend end up winning a small stack of 20s, but the first snow of the season began as we drove.

On the way home, we commented on the diamond-like quality of the fallen snow in the headlights and made plans to get together again soon.

Add all of this in-person interaction to my lengthy list of Zoom buddies from home who had no problem joining me for regular virtual catch-ups, and community became no problem.

I joked with my mom that I came out here to be a hermit, and instead found out I’ll never have a day alone again.

Time seems to slow down here

There is a profound difference in pace between my old and new lives.

We haven’t had a day without snow on the ground since sometime in November this season. It’s not so easy to get out, especially in this weather, so I’ve found myself leaving the house less often — and spending more time out when I do.

The world was literally at my fingertips in Houston. A place so big and full of folks from around the world attracts every kind of restaurant, ingredient, and entertainment.

Why should I stock up my tiny apartment fridge when I could be at a Lebanese place in three minutes, the world’s best taco spot in two, and a grocery store with every type of tofu imaginable in 10?

Now, my basement freezer is my grocery store, and my hands set the table at the nearest restaurant: the dining room. With the closest major market over an hour away, I shop for a month at a time and reuse even the scraps of my food.

Cooking all of my meals has been a boon to both my wallet and my mental health. Nothing is easy or a given out here, but I’ve found I don’t mind it. The lack of convenience out here is part of the charm.

Despite the culture adjustments, I love my quiet life in Canada

One evening, after a daylong errand trip into the nearest sizable city, I climbed out of my car and heard a powerful roar.

My brain automatically assumed it was traffic from the bridge near my old apartment, years of city-girl conditioning activated. It took me a few seconds to remember that there’s no traffic noise here. My partner calls this place the “edge of Canada” for a reason.

My entire body relaxed when I finally understood: The sound I heard was the wind rushing through the trees and kicking up snow.

All those years living in Houston, I ached for a place closer to nature, a place where I could distance myself from the noise of the city. At long last, here I am.

This has been the biggest lifestyle shift of my adulthood, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.