I remember being a young kid in our tiny little town, and it wasn’t that long ago. I went to different summer camps, danced in local dance studios and played recreationally and club soccer on our tiny town’s soccer fields. I was allowed to walk to the library and take out a book, or go for a bike ride to the canal. On chilly fall Fridays, I was allowed to walk up to the football field to watch the football games. In our tiny town, I’ve always felt safe. I’ve always had someone to look up to. I’ve always had a place to call home.
Those kids that I looked up to - the camp counselors, the teachers, the dancers and the soccer players, the football players and cheerleaders - the “big kids,” all couldn’t wait to burst the town “bubble.” They wanted to leave and go far away. They were my role models, and as a kid, I couldn’t wait to do the same…just like they did.
I followed in many of their footsteps. I got involved in our tiny high school, where I made friends and memories to last a lifetime. I became an assistant dance instructor and worked with the little kids. I even volunteered to coach a soccer team one year. I became a camp counselor and volunteered with our tiny elementary school chorus for eight years and 16 different shows.
Senior year came out of nowhere, and very fast. I applied to a dozen or so schools, got into all of them, and had plenty of options when it became time to figure out where I wanted to spend the next four years. Just like the big kids I had always looked up to, I couldn’t wait to go far away from our Tiny Town.
I wound up picking a school just 20 minutes away because of a grant they offered me. My parents encouraged me to choose this school to attend, as it would reduce the cost of college immensely and cut the room and board entirely because I could live at home. I was extremely reluctant and against the idea entirely of living at home for another four years. I was ready to pop the bubble. But everything happens for a reason, and this decision proved to be a blessing in disguise. I was able to stay in our tiny town.
While commuting to my tiny university just 20 minutes away, I was also able to continue to volunteer in the community, work in a local dance studio, continue to be a camp counselor and go to the football games I always loved attending each week. Some call me a “washed up” alumni, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just glad to be able to spend time in our tiny town.
With college graduation only two years away and now in near sight, it's time to begin thinking about grad school… and to be honest, I don’t want to leave here. I am in no rush to pick up and move somewhere else.
The beauty of living in a bubble is the sense of safety, security and love we feel around us. It’s those trips to the grocery store that are meant to take 10 minutes but end up taking 40 minutes because we run into someone. It’s the back roads we now know by heart because of the years we spent riding our bikes on them. It’s those freezing cold Friday nights spent on bleachers under the lights, supporting our football team. It’s the innocent, happy and loving faces of the children around us who look up to us as their role models and will someday be in our shoes. It’s all of those little things that make it impossible to leave.
Not everyone is so blessed and lucky to live in a place like our tiny town - and though many of us chose to pop the bubble and go far away, the memories made here in our tiny little town will never be forgotten. At the end of the day, we all know where we came from. But more importantly, we always have a place to call home.
That’s why I’m in no rush to leave our tiny little town.
