In my twenties, I found myself young and single, so I did the city thing. At the first sign of a mild-weather spring day, I would leave work a few hours early and head to the zoo. It was a short walk from my apartment. If you turned the other way, you were only a few blocks from an excellent Mexican restaurant.
As newlyweds, we did the suburb thing. Riding our bikes this time, on Tuesday nights we could get pizza and a pitcher to drink for $5 while listening to a hidden gem artist at the local pub.
When our conversation turned to starting a family though, having a child, we both wanted to return to our small town roots. A place where we are known; surrounded by grandparents, other family members, and neighbors who feel like family.
Once I had our little girl and saw that great fire of independence in her eyes, I knew we needed land situated in the middle of nowhere. I wanted her to grow up not only small town, but country like I did. It was already in her, I could see it.
I wanted her to be somewhere where the people wave as you drive by, not because they know you necessarily, but because you’re both from here. To keep reading my latest Her View From Home post, "I'm Raising A Country Kid," click here.
For writing like this, check out my Her View From Home essay, "Five Qualities Found In Every Small Town Person."