It wasn't until roughly a week ago that I realized I will actually be leaving my hometown. I knew before, of course, but as I passed a flock of middle school boys chasing Pokémon downtown, I thought to myself- this is it.
For the past 18 years my hometown has been my identity. Sure, I will repeat the name many times over the next few months as I am asked where I am from, but the majority of my time will be spent away.
As of now I am defined by the halls that I have walked through, the fields I have (or have not) played sports on, and the people I have chosen to surround myself with. In a month, all of that will start to change. As I move to a new town and letters arrive to a new address, I will already be more than my hometown has ever seen. To the high school graduating class of 2016, this last month is bittersweet. I have a sudden urge to go out and take advantage of all my home has to offer, while at once dorm shopping and choosing fall classes. It is a month of transition, but the change is certainly welcome. I, as is with us all, have a deep connection to the town in which I rode my first bike, and the school I eventually graduated from, but I am endlessly glad for the opportunity to expand my horizons. The place that I am from will always be there to go back to, over vacations, summers- maybe it will even be a home again years down the road. The accomplishments that occurred here are certainly meaningful, but they do not have to indicate what I will become.
The things I love about my town include the familiarity of the streets, the friendly faces on sidewalks, all of it will continue on after my car leaves on September first. There will still be kids riding their bikes downtown to get bagels, the bell at the high school will still ring every weekday morning at 7:30 am. That, however, is a life we must leave behind, at least for now. Being a resident of a town and a visitor are two wholly different experiences. Campus walkways will become the new streets, and classmates the familiar faces. We will begin to define ourselves by some other place, a new one, where no history impedes us. I at once look forward to this transition, and am terrified by it. There is comfort in consistency, but there is possibility in change. I encourage my fellow incoming college freshmen to embrace that possibility, and not try to cling too tightly to what was. Stay in touch with family, with best friends, and everything else that ties you to home, but accept this new home and your new definition.
