A roundabout

It will sound silly that I, a 22-year-old woman, feel as if I’m back in High School, but it is true. Coming home was a breath of fresh air, and death warrent at the same time. My longing for the Ozarks is unquenchable, I find myself staring constantly longing to be outside, a rarity for me, yet coming back to small town life was not on the top 1000 list of things to do. Walking through the local Wal-Mart, looking like I’d not ever seen a brush, I ran into several people who I have managed for the past 4 years to see hid nor hair of. People always ask me where I am and what I’m doing and with a congenial smile I reply. I then inquire into their lives, because after it would be rude to not care in the least. The looks on their faces when they see me, I’m not sure if it smug pride that they are still snotty and beautiful, or shock that I, the girl fighting to get out, came back. Overall I spend my life making my own way. Once I leave the town limits I don’t look back, and now I see three months of constant battles with my inner pride over escaping. I have never understood the appeal of living here. Everyone knows your business, your last name makes you, being “good” enough is about whom you marry and when you marry them, and after 7 everything shuts down. Perhaps I create this insane idea of what small town life is really about, but in my mind it has always been and will always be about politics here. Don’t get me wrong; there are a hundred things I love about small town America as well. Its nice to have grown up with the same kids and have those people still be apart of my life, to have had a relationship with my teachers because of smaller class sizes, to have been a star in theater because I had few people to compete with, a country with boundless beauty a stones throw away, and a slower pace of life. It is a paradox being here. To find the freedom that awaits me this summer I have to let go of a lot of things, mainly my Pride. Having Anne here for a few days was pure delight, merging my Oklahoma life with my Missouri life, two pieces of my puzzle that are typically separated. While driving between Branson and my hometown I watched the rain cleanse the landscape and the beauty of this part of the country overtook me. So perhaps this summer isn’t going to be an easy escape, but I’m home.