I grew up in a small town. Okay, super tiny town. And, not even really in that town, about two miles outside of it right in the middle of fields.
I scoffed at the small town. The way people were scared to try new things. Be different.
When I was 18, I went off to college, in a not huge town, but in a bona fide town non the less. After a few years there, I moved to a city. A real city.
I even stayed a summer in New York City and found my way around and did just fine before moving back to the city.
Two years ago, I was living in this city and financially hit rock bottom. I had to eat my words about never going back and move back to the tiny town. I said only for a year. Then I got pregnant. So, I stayed another year.
We moved in May. Back to the city.
The domestic disputes at all hours of the night, loud music, dirty neighborhoods, and sad news stories just aren't for me.
Turns out, I've been fighting what I am all along. I'm a country girl.
I want a house in the middle of fields and a big garden and a nice yard to let the dog run free in.
Who would have thought?
I know I'll need to visit the city often. I love seeing new things. And, love city people. I need them.
But, country people? Aren't as bad as I thought. Quite the opposite. Some of them are wonderful. I often think about how things would have been if Cora died in the city. I know people wouldn't have been the same.
So, if you'll have my tiny city, I'd like to move back.