My childhood began in a two-bedroom house in the middle of small-town, rural Missouri. So small, the population sign read 501 and the only business in the entire town was the gas station that sat right off the highway.
Before I started first grade, my family decided to make the big move to Kansas City, Missouri. Population 467,007 (not including the surrounding suburbs).
When my parents divorced in second grade, my dad moved back to the small town he grew up in and my mom decided to stay in Kansas City. I grew up as a city girl by week and a small-town girl by weekend.
I love that I had the opportunity to grow up as both types of girl.
I stayed busy during the week with opportunities that only large cities provide like violin lessons, acting classes, art shows and, of course, various physical activities from karate to soccer. On the weekends, I learned to appreciate the peace and quiet my small town thrived on.
I got to explore dirt paths as opposed to concrete ones. One of my favorite pastimes on the weekend was following the creek through the woods until the sun began to set, signaling me to turn back around. In the same day, I would watch my dad help birth a calf and recognize the skyscrapers that broke the horizon downtown with my mom. I learned how to drive on gravel in an old Chevy truck, but could also zip through rush hour traffic with no problem. On the Fourth of July, it was my duty to retrieve the outlawed bottle rockets from my dad's town and bring them to my city friends. I became MIA on social media on the weekends because the world we call 'the internet' was not easily accessible where cell towers are seldom.
I had the opportunity to know what it was like to grow up in the country. At the same time, I was living in the city and I wouldn't have it any other way. Experiencing both of these lifestyles let me appreciate the different paces of life and contributed to my ability to accept the contrasts of this great big world for what they are.
I will always claim Kansas City my home, but the serenity and pride of the all-American small town will always gleam in my mind. I will never take for granted the smell of fresh cut hay in the summertime and the sound of bull frogs and the whip-poor-will at night.
