Yearning?

Someone recently asked me if I feel lost in such a big city, if I ever yearn for a small town feel? My mother is from West Virginia. Her parents lived alongside an old coal road about three miles from the nearest town. My grandfather owned twelve acres. The house was just off the road at the bottom of a meandering valley. Across the road was a small barn where my grandfather kept his horse, Comet. The barn was the gray color of wood that hadn’t been painted for decades. The front of the barn opened onto the road. My grandfather’s "classic", and I use that term loosely, ford pick-up always sat there ready to perform. The back of the barn opened up onto a level acre of green grassland where Comet would spend his days. A creek ran through it almost parallel to the road. There was a line of trees that ran along the opposite side of the creek. The creek bed was the rusty color of iron, as none of the mining companies had to deal with environmental laws at that time. We were always told as kids to stay out of the creek. I had no idea it was to keep us from being poisoned. When you were there, you always heard the soft trickle of running water.
Nestled into the grassland, directly across the road from the house, was a small area surrounded by a white picket fence. The area was deemed a landmark by the state. It held a natural saltwater well. The well was dug by slaves working for the confederate army during the Civil War. It was actually a spring that the slaves tapped into. The well was painted silver and shaped like an oil drum. Water constantly flowed out of it into an antique cast iron bathtub. The water flowed over the side of the tub and then into the creek. Across the creek the earth rose up and climbed into the sky. I was always told the mountain-top was a couple miles away. But as a wide-eyed kid it looked like the earth swallowed half the sky. The side of the mountain was covered with grass and trees. My grandfather kept a couple beef cows there. Once a year he would slaughter one so my grandparents would always have meat.
My grandparents lived in a two story Victorian house. It was always painted a pastel green. There was a swing on my grandparents front porch. It could fit three, however I would always lie down and my cousins would try to spill me onto the floor. If you ever took a second to listen there was always the high pitched drone of insects in the background. The same high pitched drone that you always seem to hear in a meadow. There was always the sound of life. In particular I remember one afternoon forty years ago, sitting on the swing slowly rocking back and forth listening to Bob Whites in the Oak tree just off the porch. I spent many summers there until I was 16 years old.
I was asked if ever feel lost in such a big city. The answer is no. I feel the city of Chicago is living and vibrant and I am a part of it. But I was also asked if I ever yearn for a small town feel?....