As the finals wind down, and the holiday parties are had, I know it's time to head back home for an extended period of time.
This time means seeing the people that I graduated with, that never left the town they always complained about, the people that actually loved the town I grew up in and now call it their forever home with their families. I know as I drive back to it every time, that I'll most likely see someone from high school, elementary school, and middle school that will either not recognize me and oddly stare at me until it clicks, or gush until they know my life beyond the town with a population below 5,000.
I graduated with a class of 106, and a solid fourth of them I had gone to school with since kindergarten. The people I said goodbye to, pretty much the day of graduation, had seen the majority of the rougher stages of my life. Unlike most, I was pretty ready to move away and start my own life where no one had a preconceived notion about what or who I was. A bitter, angry part of myself was so ready to "move beyond" my tiny town and its traditions. I moved to college, and absolutely hated my college town for the first 6 months. The traffic terrified me, the people were so different. If I needed something, I couldn't immediately call six people to help me out. I had grown up where everyone pretty much knew who I was, and coming to a college that boasted 36,000 students, left me with some pretty big growing pains. I had to figure out how to make friends here, how to navigate a large area, make new traditions, and figure myself out. Many of the people I talked to or became close to my freshman year haven't stayed close with me and vice-versa.
The hometown I left hadn't equipped me for the "real world". It was so comfortable. I knew every street name, everyone's home in our grand total of three major subdivisions, and the name of every single graduating senior. It did teach me the meaning of community. It taught me importance of giving back, and how to be there for people in need. Home taught me to have passion for something, and fervently show it, even if it means sticking coins in milk jugs to scream at football games and chant cheesy things from the stands.
As I return to it, I drive through the main drag to get to my house and see all the changes that have happened as my life has changed in my new world at college. I'm no longer bitter or angry about how ready I am to leave as I come, even though seeing six people I know when I just wanted milk at the local grocery store is exhausting.
Even though I know the place I grew up won't be my future home, I've learned to appreciate the decision my parents made to raise me there, something my teenage self definitely couldn't appreciate. So thanks for the memories, hometown.
