I've spent my entire life in New York, born and raised. And no, it's not the New York you're thinking of. It's not the glamorous, dream-filled "concrete jungle" of the movies and pop culture. It's not the city that never sleeps, nor the home of Lady Liberty, nor the place where so many young adults go with dreams packed in their small, brand-new leather bags. No, the New York I grew up in is, in fact, quite the opposite.

The New York I grew up in is a cluster of small towns with populations no more than a few thousand (the population of my high school town was 557 as of 2016). The New York I grew up in is nestled amongst rolling hills and lush woods, forests, and state parks. The New York I grew up in is going to school, or church, or wherever, and not only recognizing, but also knowing every face you see. It's waking up in the morning to sunlight streaming through your window while birds chirp in their nest right outside your window, rather than being woken up to the sounds of morning traffic.

Yes, I grew up in upstate New York, amongst the gorgeous Catskill mountains. Although we moved around a lot when I was a kid, we never left the county. Thus, I've lived in the same tiny county my entire life, and strangely, I'm okay with that.

I used to not be okay with living in upstate New York. My aunt used to live in the city, so several times a year we would take overnight trips (mind you, New York City is 4-5 hours from us) and explore the Big Apple. I loved it. New York City was my favorite place in my whole childhood world and I was dead set on living there as an adult. I loved the food of Chinatown, the thrill of riding the subway, and the way Times Square lit up like nothing you've ever seen at night. To me, it was the most romantic thing in the world.

In high school, I made plans to share an apartment with a friend of mine once we were adults and out of college. I just couldn't picture myself anywhere else. Meanwhile, however, I was missing out on the uniqueness and breathtaking beauty right outside my front door.

Even up to my high school graduation, I swore up and down I would never return to New York—at least, not the New York I knew. So when I got to Virginia and found that the landscape, culture, and atmosphere were totally different, I found myself missing my home. I missed the woods. I missed the rolling and gentle, yet mighty and majestic hills. I missed living amongst so many farms, I missed seeing the cows roam aimlessly. I missed the country roads and smooth, warm summertime drives. And I was surprised by how homesick I was for the place I once said I hated.

Now, with my major being in the highly competitive creative arts realm, I know I'll have to move to a big city to pursue big dreams because places like New York are where all the opportunities lie. And honestly, I'll probably end up in New York for a little bit. And while I'm alright with that, the city no longer holds the same magic it once did inside my heart—not because it changed or became terrible, but because I learned to appreciate the small towns I spent my childhood in. And when it's my time to settle down and start a family, I think I'll do the same thing as my parents and move to a small country town, because I want my children to grow up and one day, like me, realize how lucky they were.