Small Towns vs. Big Cities
So, I just got back from a trip home to the East Coast, and with every day that passes, I’m more convinced I should never have come back.
You see, I’m a small-town kind of girl. I grew up in the world’s back yard, a military brat with all of Europe to explore. And I loved it. But I was never one for the tourist traps or large cities. Give me a small, rural town full of color and character - someplace that still radiates the true history of a nation. For all the years I lived in Europe, I was surrounded by small towns and rural stretches of field and forest, and I loved it all.
When I moved back to the US in the late 90s, my first stop was a small town in rural Pennsylvania. Sure, I had my problems with the town, but that was mostly in the narrow-mindedness of some of its inhabitants. But I loved the area, with its open fields, forests, and streams. There’s just something so pure and whole about nature as seen in small towns.
Several years ago, I got married, and moved from rural PA to urban Arizona. It’s been a daily struggle for me, here, to adapt to the lack of forests, the lack of grass, and more than that, the lack of everything I call home. Big cities are far from where I belong. Too full of noise and bustle, and everyone running around but going nowhere. My health’s declined since moving into this environment, and I long for the forests and fields - for the nature I left behind when I came here.
Since my recent visit back East, I’ve decided that’s where I belong. It may take me a few years to get there, but like Dorothy in Oz, I’m heading home the first chance I get.
