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Day Six: Roots

The old sign for my hometown library


I have always lived in a small town.
Even my nearest city is small;
the other cities laugh at it.
I do not want to stay here forever
but neither do I resent my roots.

Small-town-living has made me curious.
Hungry for diversity
I love everyone who is not like me
unless, of course, I just don’t like you.

Being a small-town girl, I heard a lot of “I can’t wait to get out of here”, and on the flip side, plenty of “who are they, they don’t belong here.” A lot of times, small-towners get characterized as the close-minded ones because they “don’t know anything else.” Either that, or they’re seen as the naive ones rebelling against their upbringing by doing any and everything once they get to a city. I don’t really have that problem. Perhaps it’s because I never really identified myself as a small-towner until I got to college, but living in a bubble has made me genuinely curious and open to different experiences. I like talking about life with other people, especially people whose lives have been unlike mine. I feel like this is a good way to approach meeting new people, which is something else I like doing.

However, this is not all-encompassing or unconditional. If I spend some time around you and find I don’t like you as a person, I don’t want to hear your life story. Which just seems like common sense. I’m not nice enough to like everyone, which is hard to come to terms with in small towns even though it’s totally okay to dislike some people. I didn’t figure that out until college.

So thanks, Stewartstown.

2 thoughts on “Day Six: Roots

  1. Your small town poem and article match exactly the small town I live in. I suspect, however, that my small town is smaller than yours.

    1. I wouldn’t doubt it. My small town and the other small towns around it function weirdly like a larger town. I don’t know if this is necessarily uncommon, but it keeps it from feeling quite so small.

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