I grew up in a small town in Upstate New York. It’s one of those places where everyone knows everyone else, making it is easy to pick out the “outsiders.” In fact, my Dad is one of the outsiders, having only lived there for about 25 years – but that’s his story, not mine. I went to school with the same people from kindergarten to high school. Most of my teachers either went to school with my mother or were her teachers once upon a time. When asking to hang out with friends back in middle school, my mom’s first question was who their parents were because chances were, she went to school with them.

On Friday nights during football season, it is a guarantee that you will find practically the whole town gathered together at the turf to support the pride and joy of our community: the varsity football team. Everyone has “their spot” in the stands and often times, you’ll see people putting their blankets out to reserve their spot, as if the entire town doesn’t already know that you sit there each week, at the same time that the kids are getting picked up from school.

I can still tell you every back road and point out who lived in each house on any given road that my friends grew up on. When driving through town, my mom often points out the houses that her friends grew up in when she was a kid as well. I don’t know why that’s a thing we do, but it is.

I remember the day before I left for college like it was yesterday. I was driving through town with my best friend, reminiscing about all the memories we made there together. She asked me, "Wow, aren’t you going to miss this?" I laughed and responded, “Eh, maybe, but probably not much.” She was appalled and could not understand how I was not feeling the least bit upset about saying goodbye to the place I had called home for 18 years. To say that I wasn’t upset at all would be false because a very small part of me was going to miss it, but I was overwhelmingly excited about the future ahead of me.

I always knew there was more to life for me than the tiny corner of the world that I grew up in. Before I left, I felt as though there was little to no room to grow as a person or to discover who I was because everyone’s view of me was static.

In my hometown, I will always be someone’s daughter, granddaughter, niece, or sister.

I’m the girl who wanted to be a mermaid when I grew up and of course I had a lemonade stand at the end of my driveway when I was little. Doesn’t everyone?

But it's hard to grow as a person when you feel trapped beneath the perspective and opinions of other people.

Now don’t get me wrong, my hometown will always have a special place in my heart. It is the place I took my first steps, had my first kiss, fell in love for the first time, and made these and so many other lasting memories. Like my father, I’m a storyteller, and my earliest stories largely revolve around my hometown.

I still think about my hometown every so often and love to tell stories about it, but do I miss it? Not really. What I miss the most is my family and close friends, but they’re only a phone call away. By moving away, I gained more experience than I ever would have if I had stayed. I appreciate everything I experienced and learned there while growing up, but now I am constantly learning and exploring, becoming a better person each step of the way.

In my new home, I have found people and a place that feels more like home than my hometown ever will. I’m not someone’s daughter, granddaughter, niece, or sister. I am a future educator. A leader. A smart, confident young woman.

I’m full of promise. I can define myself, write my own story, and let my first impression speak for itself.

I do not regret going to school away from home. In fact, I’m thrilled – this was a key decision, and I know I made the right one. I feel freer now than I ever have before. I am thankful to have grown up in a small town where I learned so much, but I am also thankful to be able to have moved away and found myself, as well as where I feel I truly belong.