An international airport.
An ocean.
But I’ve been alive a while, so even though I wasn’t near either of those things for ten years, I can still say “most of my life…”
farm land.
Lake Superior.
Wal-Mart…up until I moved in June I was never more than 2 miles from Wal-Mart.
I’ve never lived more than ~2 miles from train tracks.
I’ve lived in 13 different houses/apartments/places.
Twice they were directly across the street, once running through my backyard.
A state line.
Ditto, though prolly not the same ones.
The Rocky Mountains.
Damn. Me too. I’ve lived in several places in California, but always close to 101.
A Nabisco factory where they make Oreos.
Let’s see, until I was 20 I had lived in two homes, one until I was three and then 17 years at the next, which was three miles from the first place.
Since then I’ve lived in another six different prefectures in another country, nine different cities ranging from 10,000 people to 10 million, 17 apartments or homes, by the ocean and in the mountains, near rail lines and far away.
Humm. I’m going to go with “people.”
The Atlantic Ocean.
This is no longer the case, and hasn’t really been the case since I went away to college. Tallahassee’s not close enough to a body of water larger than a lake to count, and the Orlando area is certainly not within ten miles of the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean.
Myself.
Pacific Ocean
Sydney Opera House
Jimi Hendrix. Less than a mile, actually.
For forty six of my fifty two years I’ve lived within ten miles of the place I was born.
A violin.
23 out of 27 here.
A gas station.
That’s all I’ve got.
A beach.
Until I was twenty six I had never lived more than five blocks from our glorious gulf coast beach. I spent many, many a day there. Oh, good times. Good times.
When I got married the hubs and I first moved to Colorado, then Kansas, where we currently reside. No beaches. Bummer.