Why I Owe it All to my Hometown

Here's what you need to know about my hometown:

1. There's probably more cows than people. And I like it that way.

2. The people there are great, despite being accidentally racist on occasion. 

3. We like guns. Like, a lot. 

4. Seeing a tractor in the school parking lot was in no way shocking.

5. There are no secrets. Ever. 

6. Everyone is your grandma. And they show love by feeding you.

7. It is the reason I am who I am today.

All joking aside, I seriously love my little podunk slice of heaven. I remember being seventeen and perpetually bitter, wanting nothing more than to leave that itty bitty town in my rear view mirror and never look back. And when I went to college, I had every intention of doing that.

But then something changed.

The city was loud and rough and though I learned how to take care of myself real quick, I ached for rolling hills and dairy farms. I had an accent here, and the food was awful. 

And when I moved away to Virginia for a job, I thought the ache would subside. I always wanted to live in the south, didn't I? So why was the longing only getting sharper?

I came back to Pennsylvania a little over a year ago, and nothing ever felt as good as passing state lines back into the north. It wasn't home, not really, but it was closer. And then I realized.

My hometown is what built me. The people, the country air, the teachers and coaches and friends and old boyfriends, all of it. And to this day, they do nothing but push me up so I can reach the sky. 

I released my second novel in April of this year, and never before have I felt the love and support of my community so strongly. 

So I know this post is all over the place, but this is long overdue.

Thank you. Thank you - Rome, Pa. - for motivating me to make you proud. Thank you for always taking me back, even when I tried to leave. Thank you for encouraging my goals, even when they were a long shot. I met them because of you.

And please don't ever think that I take that for granted.