Lucky to get out

I grew up in a beautiful rural area. 

When I was 17-years-old and felt depressed or claustrophobic growing up in my rural home, I would go for a drive. I would drive past beautiful Amish and non-Amish farms. I would drive past little churches with tall steeples. I would cut through the valley where I lived and drive to the top of a scenic mountain. 

The area was pristine. In the spring and summer, the lush farms and mountains would rival the greenest Irish hillside. In the fall, when the corn and crops would come to harvest, the mountains and trees would come alive in bright yellow, red and orange. I still consider the area to be the prettiest area I’ve ever seen. Yes, I’ve traveled the country. New England is wonderful in the Fall, the Midwest has many different delights, the South is picturesque throughout the year, California is, well, California, but Central Pennsylvania, is unlike anything anything else in the world.

A lucky rabbit’s foot

Despite the beauty and closeness with nature, the focus on self-reliance, the simple values of the area, and the strong start the area gave me, I feel lucky to have gotten out. I dreamed of getting an education and had dreams that were bigger than the small valley where we lived.

Many friends stayed and found God. Some friends stayed and got hooked on amphetamines and harder drugs. Some folks stayed but lived in what one friend from the area used to call “Poverty with a View.” The idea being they would wake up to beautiful sunrises but needed to drive great distances for work, since good paying jobs were scarce. 

Others like me, moved and never came back. 

Wanting something more

I knew I needed to get away to make my dreams come true and to broaden my mind and thoughts about people and what is possible. I knew I would never fit into a big city, I still feel like an outcast sometimes in suburbia, but I also knew that I couldn’t stay. I probably will never lose the feeling of being a small-town kid.

For a while, it looked like I might never get away. I went to the big state school an hour away, still close enough that the powerful magnet from the area kept pulling me back. I even worked for two years in my hometown, but I felt the whole time like I was living out of a suitcase. I never wanted to get too comfortable.  

I soon moved to Northern Virginia and never looked back. Oh sure, years later, I moved back to Southeastern Pennsylvania, but I’ve never moved home-home. 

Why me?

I wonder sometimes how I was lucky, how I was able to break out of the small-town chains that were holding me. If I had stayed, I’m pretty sure I would have had to give up on my dreams. I wouldn’t have focused on my education. I wouldn’t be a writer today. I might have kept on the straight and narrow, but with my field of expertise, I would have had a long commute. I might have had to even change careers. 

Yes, I feel lucky.  

Oh, I could see returning one day in retirement, but definitely with different goals in mind: to enjoy the beauty and not to start a life.