Home is where the heart is. Or that’s what they’ve been saying. Are you kidding? We couldn’t wait to get out of that place. We couldn’t wait to leave this town. Hand me my diploma, please, and let’s forget about all the terrible mistakes we’ve made here. Let’s abandon the memories we made near the 200’s lockers. Please, let’s forget about the drama and all the “crushes” that we swore we’d talk to tomorrow. Let’s forget about our poor outfit choices, and dear God can we not even think about any of the rest of it.
Why do we want to get out so badly? Why can’t we wait to leave?
When it’s all over, it’s sweet. We did it, finally. It’s done. We no longer need to worry about security catching us as we sneak off campus for lunch, or whether or not we had a hall pass to go pee. Or if we had a pass to get into the media center. We don’t need to deal with the pointless drama and seven-hour school days.
But once we get out, we realize that home is really where the heart is.
“The magic thing about leaving home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better to come back” – Wendy Wunder
There’s a Starbucks, that get’s overwhelming crowded past 3.
There’s a Robeks, and a decent dinner across the street.
There’s a Five Guys that’s relatively new, but I guess it’s not really that new anymore.
When you pull into the shopping center near what used to be an A&P, you can smell the burgers being made.
There’s another diner if you keep driving a little further down the road.
There’s also a Yogurberry, and DSW. That’s new.
There are a few parks. You’ll find kids lighting up their first cigarettes or on their second pack of the day. There are tire marks scared into the pavement just before you walk into the woods, initials and colored shapes scratched into the trees, and dog’s playing in the water under the bridge.
At first glance, it doesn’t look like much. But it’s an attractive town. It has plenty of stores and restaurants. And a Target. Who doesn’t love Target? Of course, there’s also a mall. But I haven’t been there in a while.
Others say that home isn’t a place. Rather, it’s a feeling you get deep inside of you when you’re surrounded by the right people.
For me, home is a blue house that sits at the end of col de sac. It’s a lake in the backyard with snapping turtles, and mucky water. It’s being surrounded in a crowded Starbucks by familiar faces. It’s the park we went to every day last summer. The tree we carved our initials in. It’s the Dunkin Donuts everyone crowded into on Sunday mornings, and early before school. It’s the nail salon that I’ve gone to with my mom since I was little. It’s the crowded football field bleachers. Purple and gold on one side, and orange and black on the other.
No matter where life takes us, to college across the country, or a new job. There’s always something inside of us that is bound to our hometown, and the people there.
Always so much love, Stamford.
