Dear Hometown,

You were a great place to grow up. Nestled in the suburbia, better known as Bergen County, N.J., I had everything I could ever want or need. There are less than 6,000 people that share less than three square miles, but that doesn’t stop the countless pizzerias, bagel shops, nail salons, delis, Chinese take out places, or dry cleaners. (Because everyone loves having their clothes washed for them while they can go across the street and enjoy a fresh slice of Cousin’s pizza). I wish I could stay forever, but breaking the metaphorical bubble that I call home became necessary.

My parents brought me home from the hospital to our house, here. They brought my favorite, (and only) brother home, here. I lost my first tooth on my neighbor’s walkway. My brother fell down our basements steps in his walker. I made my first friends here. I failed my first test in your school, but that was also where I found my love of learning. I skinned my knees on the basketball court, and hit my first home run on the softball field. I got drunk for the first time in my best friend’s basement. I learned to drive on your streets, and even got into my first accident. I learned what love and hate feel like, how it feels to be proud and embarrassed, confident and insecure. I grew up here.

I never realized how much this town meant to me until the day I left. For years I dreamt of leaving, ready to start my own adventure in a place where no one knew my name. I could walk into a Dunkin' Donuts without seeing two former teachers, a kid from history class, and one of my friend’s moms all at the same time. I now love living further from home, but it did take some getting used to. As I take each new experience in stride (with some trip ups along the way, of course), the journey of defining myself, finding my passions, and exploring the world and its inhabitants, will not always allow me to be so close to home. Norwood, know you will always have a special place in my heart. Eventually, I will be back for good.