Growing up in a small town can make a child feel restless and sheltered.
Everything is slow paced and there's no where to go. You went to school with the same people every year for twelve years and nothing ever seemed new or exciting. But, something magic happens once you move away. You adjust to the hustle and bustle of a city: ambulances noises outside your window, being shoulder-to-shoulder with people in the grocery store, and being shocked when you run into someone you know in public. And now when you finally come home, to the sleepy little town, your perspective has shifted for good. Here is why Christmas in a small town is the best way to spend the holidays.
The peace and quiet
That's the first thing I notice when I come home for the holidays. My dad will be standing in the kitchen talking to us, and when he pauses to think the world goes silent. Our dog repositions herself on the floor by our feet and I hear her sigh in a stretch. If I want to go to bed at 9 because I've had a long day, I can. And with the close of a bedroom door no sounds will disturb me. But on the other hand, if I'm up late watching movies I'll have headphones in. I'm much more aware of the sounds I'm making when they are in fact the only sounds. Our dogs know when someone is coming home, because they'll hear the car coming down the driveway before it's even in sights. It's the only car coming down our drive at 4 PM. I can go for a walk, any time of day down our street and and hear my shoes hit the ground with every step. This is when I can truly feel at peace. All the stress of the fall melts away and I can think about the important things in life, like what movie we're going to watch that night.
Everything is an event
Small town winter breaks aren't an occasion where you make a list of everything you want to do and hope you're able to squeeze them in while you're there. Instead, there are those few special things I want to do while I'm home, so I time them perfectly. I want to go for a walk downtown at sunset; I want to wonder the shops and look at the local business; I want to get desert at my favorite restaurant; and I want to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree on our main street. That's what makes every moment worth capturing in my mind forever. Walking through downtown at night with my sisters when the temperature drops, looking at all the lights, and hearing live music from the restaurant on the corner is something that really only happens on a few good nights every year. I guess that's why I'll never forget them, and why I'll always want my future family to come and experience the same thing someday when I take them to my hometown for the holidays.
Baking is a word that frequently passes the lips
I get the holiday baking fever when I get home. Everything has to be the perfect family recipe that we make from scratch every year. Oh you forgot the whipped cream? Don't worry we'll go get it. And while we're out we'll get coffees too. And when we get back we'll make fun meals from Pinterest. And after dinner, we'll make cookies! We made homemade frosting and we're ready to make decorating a competition! I miss my family's cooking all year long and trust me when I say I will not miss a chance to eat any of my favorite childhood meals while I'm home for the holidays. The special bread my mom makes for Christmas morning fills the house with a sweet smell as we all sleepily head to the livingroom in our matching pajamas to look at the tree- holding her clutch of presents underneath.
The little church that holds my heart
There's something about walking into a little church, smaller than your lecture halls, when your cheeks are cold from the wind and your tights aren't quite cutting it. To walk in and be toasted with heat and warm smiles everywhere. I never fail to get a, "You girls are more grown up and beautiful every time I see you. And boy do you look just like your Mama." The little church band with without a doubt sing "Mary Did You Know", and I will get goosebumps. Everyone will be matching, like we prepared for a church-wide family picture. Navy or black dress pants; red or green or cream sweaters, and the men wearing ties to match. And once we get home we're all still kind of in awe. At some point over break we will be sitting at the table together and end up discussing the history of Christmas and how we hope to keep scripture and praise in each and every Christmas.
Feeling like myself for the first time in a while
While I was home for Thanksgiving, I actually talked to my sisters about this. My guard is always a little bit up when I'm away from home. I'm always trying to give a good impression, or perform at my highest. And the minute I get into the car, to come home to my quaint little town, something changes inside me. And every mile closer I can feel myself becoming more like myself. And finally, when I exit the highway and I'm on that final 15 minute stretch that I swear I could drive with my eyes closed, the transition is complete. I smile at every person I pass, and wave when I pass a truck on the driveway. I drive a little slower and keep the windows down so that I smell the grass and trees a little better. I listen to more country music and find myself throwing on big hoodies that go halfway down my thighs. It's my home. The place where I want to take the dogs for a mile walk in hopes that I'll see some wildlife or a newborn calf.
I'm not really sure who I am outside of that small town.
Every time I leave I know that I keep a piece of myself there: with the trees, the quiet downtown, the newborn calves, and the cinnamon scented kitchen. This year, once again, I want to cherish every moment that I'm there. Sit in the silence and memorize what it sounds like. My dad laughing and having a drink with my mom outside. Memorize every piece of it so that once I do leave- and go back to the bustling city I'll have something to take with me, since they keep a piece of me there with them.
