Home Is Where the Heart Is (Picking up the Pieces Contest)

First a back story. My friend Envy at Picking up the Pieces is hosting a contest for her blog's anniversary which goes to show she's a way better blog parent than me considering my two year anniversary passed five days ago without a simple post (more on that later). Anyhow, I'm entering the contest on the final day entries are being taken because I'm slow and procrastinate-y like that (can procrastinate become an adjective or no?). But before I ramble any longer, let's begin. (You can find the project entry rules here.)

 

The town I live in is an odd sort of place. 

It's a conundrum really, everyone can't wait to get out, yet it seems like few ever leave. We (as its teenage inhabitants) are all a little ashamed of where we live, yet are strangely and equally proud of this little place we grew up in.

My high school is squeezed between a cow pasture and a pool chemical plant with a strip club a quarter of the mile down the road (I can't even joke about these things). We tell people that if they no longer smell the cow shit they've gone too far. 

People in my hometown have been living here for generations. We like to say that people don't just move here, they're born here (and good luck getting out). Everyone is conservative as hell and words like abortion and gay marriage are enough to send them fleeing to the nearest baptist church (which we have plenty of). Not to mention, racism trails more people's thoughts than it should. (Fun fact: my high school was one of the very last high schools in the nation to desegregate.) 

I assume that one day these things will make a hell of a good memoir, but right now I'm living them. 

Every day I breathe in the farm animals and racism and right wing views that inhabit my home town, yet I can't help but laugh at what I witness and experience and live day in and day out. I think about how some day I'll miss these things—all these things that drive me insane and push me miles and miles away.

It's strange to think that some day this won't be my home. It's strange to think that some day all these dreams I have will become a reality and my home will be a place that I create all myself. It's strange to think that some day I'll be watching the sun set from a different backyard in a completely and utterly different place.

And despite the differences me and my town have, it will strangely always be my home.

Have a fabulous day.