The beauty of a small town is that, as long as it stays a small town, the rhythm and cadence never really changes. I grew up in a small town. It’s a much bigger and busier small town than it was when I was little, but at heart it is and will forever be a small town. There have been times where being from a small town has felt absolutely stifling. There are other times where it has been as comforting as a hug. I have wanted to leave, I have left. I have come back. What I realize now is, that for me, this small town is an extension of my family. No matter where I go, or what I do, it will always be there, steady and welcoming.
Today I did something I haven’t done in a long time. Years actually. I sat on a bench in my small town and just breathed it in (especially the Kilwins smell because… Ice cream.) and watched people. I closed my eyes and I was a kid again. It was neat.
I’m glad that no matter where I go or what I do, I can stop, take a breath and remind myself that no matter what this psycho world throws at me I still can remember when life was simple and because of that, I’m a lucky, lucky girl.
(Who knows exactly where to get the good ice cream)