Incarceration

It’s not that I hate my town. Or my state. I actually don’t. But I’ve been halfway across the world and back, seen places and things that I’m still trying to take in, and guess what? I’m restless. It’s true. I want a city, more than anything really. But it’s so easy to want something.

I see people who drive hundreds of miles just to come to Vermont. And I’m truly and honestly confused. I’m counting down the seconds until I get to leave, and they willingly go out of their way to bring themselves here. And what do they get? Cool-looking leaves in the fall, snow, and a pretty mountain or two. For the most part, it’s stuff you can find anywhere. My mom says I’m blind to Vermont’s beauty because I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s most definitely the complete opposite. I think I’ve seen it all, done it all, soaked it up and spit it back out. Every scenic view, every blade of grass; I don’t take it for granted. I just know that it’s nothing compared to the flashing neon lights of New York City, or the cobblestone streets lined with shop after shop in London. After all, there's nothing in Georgia except for trees and cows. Why do people shape their lives around that?

I went to my brother’s graduation and there was this speaker; he gave this insanely good speech, but at the end suggested we all move back to Vermont eventually, or just simply never leave at all. He begged us, in fact. And he implied that we would all feel a need to return. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was hilarious to me. I just can’t understand why people would want to come back. Obviously it’s nothing great since not even a million people live here, and that number can be multiplied by huge amounts in any major city alone. Is that really what people love? The quiet, “nobody’s around” kind of feeling? It terrifies me, to be honest. And someone telling me that I will for sure want to retrace my insignificant footsteps back to little old Vermont one day just makes me want to prove them that much more wrong.

I continually beg my mom to bring us (or me, at least) around the world some more. She sighs, complains that we don’t have the money, and then moves on with her life. It’s probably always stuck in the back of her mind since I ask so much. But the thing is, she’s been so many places. I don’t think she understands that I have this permanent aching to travel anywhere and everywhere. And when I ask her about any given place she’s been, which is often, she usually doesn’t have much to say, along the lines of: “It was okay.” I bet you these are the kind of people that tend to live in Vermont, those that downplay the fact that they’ve been to Rome or Tokyo.

The world’s not such a small place. But Vermont is.