Home Sweet Home

There truly is no place like home. Nine hours, 564 miles, are what separate me from State College, Pennsylvania to Wilmington, N.C. I've been to the big city lights of New York and the picturesque old southern cobblestone streets of Charleston S.C. I've seen the monuments of Washington and the historic areas of Williamsburg Virginia. Yet, nothing can ever replace the euphoric  sensation of the sand on my feet and the salty seawater on my face that can only be felt on Wrightsville Beach. Many times I get asked " What makes your town so special"? "Why do you love Wilmington, North Carolina so much?" Too be honest, I didn't always feel this sense of belonging and enjoyment for my town.But now that I'm hundreds of miles away from home, I truly understand what made my hometown my home. I understand how living in the South shaped the person I am today.

It was a special place. A place where I could walk through the grass barefoot and ignore the ants and random worms. I would walk around the half acre of land in my backyard over and over again, feeling the soft sensation of the freshly trimmed grass or the cool mud after a rainstorm.  In that backyard, I nursed abandoned kittens back to health and watched them grow and expand their litters. It was the same place where my dog decided that a certain scent  he caught was extra appealing, and sprinted outside the gate and down the street and disappeared, only to come back an hour later with his tail wagging, because he realized that that place was his home as well. It was a place that was once decked out from top to bottom with Christmas decorations every year,  color corresponding to the furniture in each specific room.Even though things got busy as I got older, we still rushed to put up the decorations, the little clay houses adorned with carolers and storefront lights,and the tree, even if it was two days before Christmas.  I can smell the scents of Thanksgiving and Christmas, the smell of the candles and the annual prime rib. I can hear the classic tunes that would play from my great uncle's car every time he pulled into the driveway when he came back in town to visit.

It was a special town. So much time was spent in the downtown area every weekend just walking down near the riverfront admiring the Henrietta and the way the sun slid down behind the long bridge. Many visits were made to Kilwin's where I would always order the red chocolate covered apple, and immediately regret when I decided to change things up and order the granny smith version. Impromptu drive's towards the coast were a common occurrence just because I loved to experience the atmosphere of the people and the lights of the bars and restaurants from an outsider's perspective. I remember having such iconic memories such as being an Azalea Belle, and experiencing Airlie Gardens during Christmas as the once cherry blossomed filled trees were covered with Christmas lights. Every year was spent going to the Azalea Festival and celebrating the start of spring while taking in the various vendors. Fireworks occurred for every big festival and activity that took place in town.  It's amazing how one town that seems so small compared to the big cities, could seem so large and packed while waiting on the highway during 5 o'clock traffic or during a major event that took place downtown.

It has a special type of people. The friendliest most homey individuals are the one's that you meet while chatting in the line of a grocery store or sitting in the booth of a restaurant. The people who welcome you home, back into the congregation of church when you've been gone for 3 months. The people who have seen you grow up and mature and accomplish certain milestones in life. Southern hospitality that radiate's from the most unexpected places. Friends who have experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows and have been by your side through drill meets, late night practices and early morning rises. The people who refer to you as sugar or youngin. The people who know  the perfect concoction for a great cup of sweet tea. The hipsters, old southern ladies, and country folk, that make Wilmington more than a town but a home.

The South made me who I am today. It molded me into a person who is compassionate, love's hearing a thick southern drawl and the smell of the outdoors after a thunderstorm. I've experienced the busyness of large cities and have always appreciated the slowdown of the country backroads. I've listened to the upbeat top 40 hits, but always prefer the rhyme of a nice country song. Being away from Wilmington has made me appreciate the neverending warm temperatures and the tourists on the beach because there are time's I just want to be able to sit on the lifeguard stand once again and admire the water or take long drives in the heat of the day to run errands with my mom, That town is the town I go back to on breaks and feel instance peace because I know it is home.Penn State is my temporary home but Wilmington will always be the place that I know I can always return to. It's hard to really articulate why the South is so special because it's something that must be experienced. it's not a region, it's a lifestyle. People may leave for a while but they'll always come back. It truly is a special place.

My Own Kind of Paradise

Wishing I was knee deep in the water somewhere

Got the blue sky breeze and it don't seem fair

Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair

Sunrise there's a fire in the sky

Never been so happy

Never felt so high

And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise

The country music genre always takes the opportunity to capture the nostalgia that summer brings.The tides of the waves, barefoot in the sand or green grass and the ever present late-night truck drives, are picturesque of the South during the summer months. The summer months have always provided me with the best memories growing up.

The summer meant vacations and weekends(and weekdays) on the beach, which really meant going at exactly the best time as to not have to deal with hundreds of tourists. It meant that I'd have 2 1/2 months of uninterrupted time that did not revolve around AP classes,SAT/ACT prep, or any other school responsibilities. It meant time with friends, and late evening walks to the park to play tennis, or going to see movies at the outdoor shopping center. It meant late night sleepovers watching movies and lighting sparklers or making bonfires. It meant playing basketball at 1 a.m. and accidentally hitting someone's house and hoping you didn't wake anyone up. 

Summer meant walking in the illuminated lights of  downtown at dusk while listening to the cover bands play Lynard Skynard. It meant sitting outside on the deck of the local seafood restaurants with the back of my legs stuck to the plastic chairs during the heat of the day.It meant guzzling sweet tea or lemonade after helping my mama and grandma in the backyard. It meant late night trips to cookout with my friends past curfew.  

The summer meant family cookouts listening to the oldies and eating hamburgers.It meant going away parties and welcome home celebrations. It meant vacations to Bush Gardens in Virginia or Myrtle Beach.It meant overnight summer camps learning government policies,an immersive week playing classical music, or practicing drama productions. The summer meant 4th of July fireworks near the old battleship on the riverfront. It meant endless drives with my mama to the beach, driving around just because. 

Summertime meant countless trips to the local mall and spending hours simply window shopping and people watching.Summer meant flower blossoms and tall grass. It meant lot's of turbulent  weather but also lot's of sunshine. 

Summer meant crickets chirping and the noises of the frogs after a storm. It meant cloudless blue skies and burning concrete driveways. It meant early evening patio lounging with the umbrella up. It meant drive thru car washes to remove the pollen. It meant Coldstone ice cream melting off the cone before you even got a taste.

Soon,it meant mid-August school clothes shopping.It meant a new bookbag, converse sneakers and printed notebooks.It meant one more for old times sake. It meant saying goodbye to  friends as they started a new chapter. It meant storing away the summer memories and preparing for the new year to come. 

Summer was the season for new beginnings and adventures. It was a time for spontaneous activities and impulsive behavior. Between the months of June and late August, anything was conquerable.

This upcoming summer is my last summer to really take part in my youth before internships and entry-level work start to become the norm. This summer I vow to go back to my Southern roots and stick my feet in the ocean and listen to the squawking of the seagulls. I vow to play basketball at 1 a.m. with my friends and drive to the mountains to conquer that hike that once seemed unimaginable. I vow to not let the time pass me bye, to grab every second and every minute and make it count for something. I vow to go on those late night drives to the Bo's supermarket and have those bonfires on the beach. I vow to kayak and paddleboard as much as my heart desires. I vow to spend as much  time with friends and family. I vow to accept every challenge and light every sparkler. Though I'll only have 5 weeks of summer before I have to pack up and leave to work at camp, I vow to not forget the precious time of summer. I vow to hold on to the new memories and remember the old. I vow to stress less,live more,complain less,accomplish more.I vow to relive the summer of my glory days.