Dear Hometown,

It’s not you, it’s me. I’m not the same person I was four years ago, and that’s something we need to deal with. I had a lot of fun memories here and there’s no way I could ever forget those, but I need to move on.

You know, I remember when I moved here and celebrated my eighth birthday and when school started, I was worried I wasn’t going to make any friends, because everybody already knew each other. There was a sandbox group, and I wanted to join them, and Miranda and Allie wouldn’t let me…so I told on them. Now we’re best friends and sometimes we still walk to the sandbox. I remember I went to camp right before middle school and that was my first time being away from my parents for more than a night–it was like an extended sleepover which was cool, and I wouldn’t admit it, but I was glad to be home. My mother laughed and asked what I was going to do in college, and I said she’d just have to visit every week–Mom, that’s no longer necessary.

Then, I went to your middle school and suddenly there were so many more kids than I knew existed in our town. All the girls suddenly got really pretty and I wasn’t sure why my eyelashes hadn’t grown twice as long and my lips weren’t as shiny–Ania explained that the magic was called makeup. All the boys played games on their cell phones and talked in funny voices–we learned about that and all kinds of other stuff in health class. But there were all sorts of lessons we didn’t learn in the classroom, like how the unofficial dress code was Abercrombie and Hollister hoodies. But then John told me I would never be cool until I got an AIM or MySpace. I told him I’d take my chances. But I got my first flip phone so I could call my mom to pick me up after school, and listen to my iPod Nano while I waited by the door. I couldn’t hear them, but I could see the secretaries waving goodbye.

Middle school was so great, I didn’t understand why we had to go to high school. I really couldn’t get my locker open and I asked the cute senior who looked like Zac Efron to help me. He was kind of like a celebrity to us freshmen, because well, he was a senior! I freaked out about how I was going to get from one end of the school to the other in only five minutes, so I just carried all of my books instead of stopping at my locker–apparently that is how the upperclassmen knew what grade we were in. Sophomore year I tried out some AP classes and cried during AP Chem. Then, Mr. Rupel played a YouTube clip about how there’s no crying in baseball. That made me cry more. I took driver’s ed, and almost crashed the car the first time…and the second time…and the third time. But I needed my license–how else was I supposed to get my frozen yogurt?

I decided to join every club offered at school and I found a few I really liked. Coach Hepworth basically became an older sister, and every week I’d stop by her classroom until it was basically my second home. When junior year came around, we took a college road trip but I realized I kept getting the campuses mixed up–which one had “400 clubs,” and “great diversity,” and “a supportive student body?” Oh right, all of them. I took the SAT and the ACT and the PLS STOP. When we were stressed, my best friend and I took walks by the park and just walked and talked for hours. When it got colder, we would stay in the driveway, blast the heat, and vent–literally and emotionally. Finally, it was Senior year and all anybody could talk about was college: where you applied, where you heard back from, what you wanted to study there, and which kidney would you be willing to sell for tuition? I remember taking many long romantic walks to the mailbox and back. Second semester showed a steady decrease in GPA and an increase in socialization, and everybody was happy throughout prom, Senior Night, and suddenly it was the last day and everyone was crying. Summer was booked solid–one grad party after another. No job, no internship, no classes, just freedom and fun for probably the last summer of my life. And slowly, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t see many of these people again once college started.

I have a week left now and my entire family is moving across the country. I’ll go off to school, and they’ll do their thing. But I’m leaving my hometown behind. Even my friends whose families aren’t moving, are moving every bit as much as I am. I will miss the sandbox, the park, the driveway, the mailbox I took down, and the frozen yogurt place where the owners know my usual. Coming back will not be the same–I’ll be a visitor. I’ll be conflicted as to where to call home–my parents' place, college, or here? But one thing can never change–you’ll always know where I grew up, the same answer to security questions on Yahoo, my dear hometown.