All our lives, we live to fulfill dreams, goals, or just try to make it without making too many mistakes or messing up. Growing up as kids we have dreams to be NBA players, astronauts, doctors or supermodels. We don’t want to be boring and plain humans from small towns. We don’t want to just work 9 to 5 jobs and come home and live off pinto beans and cornbread. 

As we grow up we learn that our dreams don’t always work out like we thought they would. Sometimes your Golden Dreams become simple dreams and they work out even better. You think you’re going to marry that girl you dated all through high school and you’re going to have that big white wedding and have those blonde-headed kids. Then college happens and you both choose to do long distance for a year because one school didn’t have the degree one of you wanted to pursue. Then, you both meet someone and grow apart. No one expects it, not even the new love of your life, but y’all both know it’s meant to be. You found your true love in college

It’s kind of like the boy who always said he was going to leave his hometown and never return because it was too small, but only stays gone for a few years. He got to the big city and the big city was too big for him. He realized that the smalltown was more his speed. He didn’t like going out and not seeing familiar faces or going down the road and waving and people not waving back. He would much rather drive 30 minutes to the nearest big town than be in traffic anytime he went to the grocery store. Not to mention, he would pick the Piggly Wiggly any day over Publix. 

Yes, the lifestyles we choose are personal and there are positives and negatives to both. I have to say I have lived both the city life and the country life. I loved both of them in their time. I guess it was just different phases in my life that I loved both, but the city was a much shorter phase then my country phase. The city life provided me with a career, life long friends, and the hospital that I love. The country life has provided so much more. 

I lived in the country growing up. The country gave us nights where we caught lighting bugs in mason jars, laid in the grass and watched for shooting stars, had bonfires with friends, and camped with friends and family. The country provided family farms and land that we could plant crops and gardens on. I hated the gardens when I was young. Picking beans, potatoes, and tomatoes were the worst, I thought. My Pops used to make me pick tomatoes all the time when I was little. I hated it so much, but what I would do to pick them now with him. As time went on, gardens became a thing of the past. Sports took up tomato picking time. We would spend our weekend in gyms all over, listening to the squeaking of shoes against the floor and buzzers that would end a game. 

Soon enough, country life ended for a time and then city life started. I moved to a city were I knew no one really. A couple of friends that I worked with, but it was nothing like being home. I’d never really met anyone who had never been from the south, never been a Christian, or just was different from me. Even though I was only an hour from my small country town, I was in culture shock. At first I hated it. I didn’t like the change, the different cultures, the people and their attitudes. I felt like people thought I was dumb because of my southern accent. I let people run over me for a while, and then finally I had to pull the attitude from both sides of my family out and just lay it all out there. Even though I had the southern accent and said stuff that sometimes sounded funny didn’t mean I was dumb or I didn’t know what I was doing. After, I wouldn’t stay hateful, but instead showed that I was more thn capable to do my job and do well. I got the respect I deserved. I could then be my southern, funny, but well-capable self. 

My attitude changed about everyone and the city. I started to make more friends and liked the city even more. I spent a total of 3, almost 4, years in Nashville and had a great time. I met some amazing people who will always be in my life and are my best friends. I just missed the country life too much. Seeing my family everyday, the little festivals and farmer markets. The traditions like homecoming, Good Ole Days, Car Shows, Horse Rides, and Tractor Pulls– you just can’t beat it. I know big cities have those as well, but nothing beats smalltown ones. The pride the people of the town put into these events is second to none. They know how much these events mean to the people of our smalltown. It’s not just something to go to, but something to look forward to, make traditions and are passed from generation to generation to make memories that can be told at these gatherings. 

Church is the same way. I’ve always gone to a little country church all my life. In college I went to a bigger church, but never was really involved just because I never felt connected like I did in a smaller church. I loved the worship music in a big church but nothing compares to an old hymn that can move the spirit through. I’m telling you I have to hang on the pew during “I’ll Fly Away” because I feel like the spirit is going to make me sprout wings and fly away. The little white country churches always make me feel at home. My family has been going to my little white church since the 1800s. I’m guessing that’s why it feels like home because it literally is. My Aunts, Meme and Nana always have stories about walking to church from the ridge where they used to live or riding in the back of the truck. They talk about Sunday dinners and discussing what they learned from the sermon that the preacher had preached. That’s one thing that I missed and didn’t know it when I moved to the city was family stories. The stories that my aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers told and still tell are my favorite memories. 

That’s also what I love about family gatherings, holidays, sunday dinners, or vacations because I know at some point there will be stories told to help keep memories alive. That’s one thing most of my family realizes and loves, that if we dont tell stories and listen to them, those memories will be gone forever. That’s one reason I started writing these blogs. I’m not that great talking about my emotions or how I feel about someone. I usually get to crying and can’t stop. If you are a Grey’s Anatomy fan, I’m Christina where she’s crying and yelling, “Someone sedate me!” I feel like that when I get worked up. These blogs help me get my emotions out without being put in mental hospital. It helps me write about what i’m thinking, whether it’s sad, happy, angry, or confused. 

I met a couple, Lorne and Rachel, from Canada. Lorne wrote about their lives and his diagnosis with cancer. Lorne and I shared some special conversations about life and death during his fight with cancer. We shared the same diagnosis of cancer and talked or texted often about treatment. He is actually why I started writing blogs. He wrote blogs throughout his life and his diagnosis, and that’s actually how we met. I was researching intimal sarcoma and I think by the grace of God I randomly clicked on his blog and started reading. I was automatically hypnotized by his writing. He had a way with words and they flowed like wind in a wheat field. Sadly, Lorne passed away earlier this year, but he truly was inspirational. So that’s how I ended up here, writing about my experiences with the country and the city, and thinking about which I like better.

City pavement, or dirt roads– which do you love? I’m blessed enough to have had them both, but my heart will always belong to the dirt roads.