Another Small Town, USA

Good morning, Happy Sunday! I just got done watering my plants with the cat and dog, it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful sunny day, and I made it through Bike Poker with only a greasy tot and burger hangover! All things to be thankful for. An idyllic weekend like this – flowers blooming, the start of warm summer weather (yes, already summer weather here), fun community-wide events, and cold beers with friends – make you reflect on things you’re thankful for, and where you are. Which, coincidentally (who would have thought), leads me to today’s topic…

One of the best and hardest things I’ve ever done was decide to take a job away from my hometown/county. Most people talk about growing up in a small town, I like to refer to my childhood as growing up in a small county. I feel like that’s a little more accurate. It’s geographically a pretty big space, but people-wise it’s a small town soap opera meets Maury Povich. Seriously.

Anyway, I took this job based on a gut feeling, and the realization that I needed to become my own person. I wasn’t ready to move back to “the County”, but I didn’t feel strong enough to pack my shit and move to a different state. So, here I am, a nice 3.5-4 hours from home in yet another Small Town, USA. I like to sum it up as: I can easily drive to the County on weekends to see my family, but I’ll never come home to find one of them sitting on my couch eating my snacks and watching TV.

Wait, before the happy, light and fluffy, let me back track for a quick minute – when I first took this job, I was desperate to find a place to live. There was nowhere to rent that wasn’t run by a slumlord, Jared and I didn’t want to live in an apartment, and we were stubborn and refused to stay in Chico (yeah, being stubborn is awesome). As a result, we found ourselves in an adorable little farmhouse on an orchard. It was perfect! We could walk the dogs through the orchard, it was out of town, everything we wanted. Oh, except that it had no central heat or air (you could feel a breeze through the windows, and conversely couldn’t get away from the heat), if you put three marbles on the floor they’d each go a different direction (emphasis on the “old” farmhouse), I was commuting 45 minutes one-way to work, Jared was still primarily on the coast, I was mostly alone and calling my mom multiple times a day, there was a break-in incident, and an adult woman kidnapping not far away (I should mention our house was right off a major interstate, of which you could see me walking alone in the orchard, and see our house…). Ah, it was awesome. Looking back I think there was some depression that settled in – work became the highlight of my day, I was terrified to be home alone, and I cried. A lot.

BUT, don’t leave my blog now, this story gets a little more positive (yay!). With my mom’s help, I bought a house in the little town where our cheese plant is. I’m a quick 8 minute drive to work, I come home at lunch to see my doggo, the park is a stone’s throw from our front yard, and more importantly we’ve created a home.

As important as our home is, is the community that we’ve moved to. I’ll be honest, trying to make friends or “break into” the scene (loose term here) in a small town is really freaking hard (where do you even start?!). Luckily, and I can’t adequately express how thankful I am, I have a coworker who has also become a best friend. When Jared was over on the coast, she’s the one who looked at houses with me, invited me to events, introduced me to people, and helped me feel a part of the community. And I love this community. It’s quirky and small, it has its share of drama (but what small town doesn’t?), but mostly it’s good people.

I’m thankful this town and the people have let me in, and have helped make this my home. I love meeting new people, creating new traditions, and enjoying all the little things in life. While soaked with a lot of tears, my decision to move out of my comfort zone is reaffirmed. There comes a sense of accomplishment when you have to figure things out on your own, create a new network of people, learn to be okay with being alone, and be vulnerable enough to put yourself out there.

So today as I enjoy the quiet peace that comes with a small town on Sunday and laugh about yesterday’s ridiculously fun Bike Poker, I think about the things I am thankful for – new friends and new communities with welcoming arms, for trusting a gut feeling, and for, simply put, growing (or in beer terms should I say, fermenting?).