I was born in the city of all cities: Manhattan. Only six short months later, my family moved to the suburbs of Philadelphia, where we still live today. When I was younger, I always viewed the city as a sort of wonderland and wished that I still lived there. While I love New York City with all of my heart, I now realize how thankful I am to have grown up in the suburbs.
I’m thankful for the Friday night football games and the late-night trips to Applebee’s.
I’m thankful for the bike rides and morning walks with my family.
I’m thankful for the car rides to nowhere blasting music with my friends in the backseat.
I’m thankful for my friends who I can also call my neighbors.
I’m thankful for the quietness of my bedroom and the business of my backyard on a sunny day.
I’m thankful for drive-throughs, mini-vans, and soccer moms.
I’m thankful for summer days lounging around backyard pools.
I’m thankful for the sound of the ice-cream truck and my neighbor’s lawnmower.
I’m thankful for fireflies, swing sets, and family barbeques.
I’m thankful for snow days filled with snowball fights, snow angels, and hot chocolate by the fireplace.
I’m thankful for Halloween and Christmas decorations that light up the streets.
I’m thankful for pumpkin picking, haunted hay rides, and corn mazes.
I’m thankful for games of Wiffle ball in the streets and lemonade stands on the sidewalk.
Most of all, I’m thankful for all of the memories I was able to make growing up in the suburbs. Even if I really am a city girl at heart, I wouldn’t trade my suburban upbringing for anything.