Every reason I go back

I grew up in an incredibly small town in Western Pennsylvania that I couldn't wait to get out of.

I grew up in a town that was too small for me, that suffocated me. A town full of bigots, hypocrites and cowards. The place where "muppears" came for the summer, and we cursed them every day until the fall turned everything crisp yet again. A one-building school district of a little over 500, and a "high school" of a little less than 300. I hail from the Snow Belt, where it isn't uncommon to get three feet of snow overnight - and still have school the next day. Imagine that.

I grew up in a confused little town. A town where there was a clear line defining the city-slicker wannabes, and the kids who got offended when someone would wear camouflage to school because they weren't "country" enough. I attended sporting events where we didn't have enough athletes to field a full team, let alone win a game or be recruited to a college above the DII level. Where the other team's taunts included retorts about tractors, trucks, and cows.

I grew up in a farm town that struggled to embrace the "farm" life. Well, kind of. A town where house parties were non-existent, and you had to have a 4WD (or a friend with one) to get to parties thrown in fields. But redneck was the most offensive title someone could have. The place you could leave 15 minutes early for school to get help on Calculus homework, and be 45 minutes late because you had to help the neighbors round up their cows. I know this for a fact, because it happened to me.

I grew up in a town where no one ever really leaves. A town where people go to college, generally within 2-3 hours of home, and come back. A community where several of the teachers I had, also taught my dad. Where you could never do anything, good or bad, without your parents finding out before you had a chance to tell them. I would leave work at night sometimes to find notes on my car, simply because everyone can identify everyone else's everything.

I grew up, and I left that sleepy little town. I moved 400 miles away from everyone and everything I had ever known. I started over in the city of Derby, Bourbon, and Cardinals. I learned to love hot browns and added "y'all" to my daily vernacular. I visited home, and I counted down the days until I could make the 6 1/2 hour trek back to my new "home." On one occasion, the first night of my first Christmas break, I even broke down crying to my parents about how much I hated being at home and I hated everyone there. I truly believed that there was nothing in Hadley, Pennsylvania for me - and that I would never want to come back.

I didn't come back after that, not for an entire semester in any case. During those four months, a funny thing started to happen. Some may call it growing up, others the idea that "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Others yet may argue that I just finally opened up my eyes...

I come home to a small town, that is waiting for me with open arms. A town full of pieces of myself. A little bit in each and every one of its residents - some of the greatest storytellers, savviest financial advisors, and wisest life coaches anyone could ever ask for. A place where the muppears still come every summer, and we still curse them until they leave. (Some things just might never change.) A one building school where my name is immortalized on various plaques, and where I have memories from 13 years of my life. I hail from the Snow Belt, where we actually know how to drive in snow, and recognize the importance of chains, snow plows, and studded tires.

I come home to a traditional little town. Where there is still a defining line, although these days it seems to be growing a little less distinct. I attend sporting events where, while we still can't seem to chalk up a winning record, the home side is always packed. Where the other teams stopped yelling about tractors, trucks, and cows, because we just embrace it and yell back.

I come home to a town that shaped me into the farm girl that I am, the one I didn't quite realize I was until I moved to the city. A town where redneck is a badge of pride, one that I fully accept now-a-days. The place I learned how to shoot a gun, ride a horse, birth a calf, pull back an arrow, spot a deer in a field while I'm driving. Where the air is clear and you can see the stars, and not just outside the city limits either.

I grew up in a town where no one ever really leaves, which makes it all the more special to come home to. A community that will stop traffic and stand in line for hours at the only funeral home in town, just to pay their last respects and stand beside our own. A place where news travels fast, and a helping hand travels even faster. A town that may only have one stoplight, but has "more churches than people," and an American flag that waves each and every day without failure.

I grew up in a town that may not be on a map, but that I know well enough I could draw one by heart. I  grew up on back roads and truck beds, home cooked meals and homegrown beef. I grew up in a town where the gossip is always the same, and where deer season is a holiday. (No, not just the first day - the whole damn season.) I grew up giving directions using cornfields and old family properties that have been theirs for generations. I grew up in a home where my dad WAS 911. I grew up in a place that I couldn't be prouder to call my hometown, with friends and family and loved ones and classmates and neighbors I wouldn't choose differently even given the chance.

I grew up in an incredibly small town in Western Pennsylvania, where every reason I left is every reason I go back.