Before I moved away, I wasn’t very thrilled about moving to Oklahoma. I kept saying that I’d be back often enough, so I shouldn’t be so sad, but… I was moving away from home, from everything familiar. More than a few people told me the same thing: “You can’t go home again.”
I know this is true. I know that the places I frequented will be forever altered for me when I return, even if nothing has changed at all. Places may be almost permanent, but the sentiment attached to a place is, sadly, transitory. Even with the growing independence of living in Oklahoma, with all the good and bad memories I’ve created there, I always look forward to going home. I know it won’t be the same, I won’t have my old room, but I just get so excited at the prospect of being where things are so familiar.
The thing everyone left out is that coming back to your home, that place you grew and loved and hated and needed to leave but never did, makes you appreciate everything you used to dislike. I love West Virginia. It’s my home. It’s the one place in my nomadic childhood that I stayed. I grew to love. I think it’s beauty is unparalleled. I’ve lived many places, and visited even more within the continental United States, and I always come back to West Virginia as my favorite.
I mean, come on, guys. I have the state tattooed on my foot.
There’s an increasing feeling of calm the longer I’m in West Virginia. The first morning I woke up at my parents house, I couldn’t help but notice that I never realized how quiet it is when you sleep far away from the road. Or how dark it gets at night. How many stars you can see. How many things are just different. I forgot so many things, like how many trees there are, and I have an entirely new appreciation for all of it… Even if I’m constantly suffering an allergy attack.