Metamorphosis

 There was a thick, heavy silence enveloping the small town. Typically bursting with noise and life, there was now a somberness laced within the streets. Even the sky held an eeriness to it, with dark clouds threatening to burst with every clash of thunder.

       I close my eyes and breath in the familiar surroundings for the last time, my heart torn between the new adventure awaiting me and the home that changed me. As I say goodbye, I sit on the roof of the announcer’s box to our little baseball field, like I had nearly a year before. I think back to that night, it was my first day in this new dusty little town and I was upset, to say the least.

      I’ve always loved moving, ever since I can remember I’ve enjoyed seeing new places and bouncing from town to town. My mom says I have a gypsy’s soul, maybe that’s why I didn’t want to move to a town with less than 500 people and had a curfew. There was no adventure, no change or diversity. You see one part of Oklahoma you’ve seen it all. I wanted to go somewhere new and I ended up back where I started.

      I hated it there, for a while, until one day I got so bored that I decided I wanted to waitress at our cafe. I thought for sure I would mess up by tripping or being to shy, but my first day at work I had multiple people asking me if I was the famous Dawn Kibbes daughter and heard stories of my mom’s wild days. As the year went on I got to know the regulars, I’d sit with them and have a coffee while listening to their stories, how they got here, if they felt fulfilled, and got advice on how to truly live.

       Every afternoon I got to know more of the town’s history and more about the people within it. The whole town knew my family like I never did, so when I ate dinner with my boss after closing I would ask her to tell me stories. After so many years I was finally given a background, I have roots and connections, and I eventually got a town’s worth of a family.

      It was completely against my will, but I became a part of the town. It changed me. The people changed me. My Papa taught me how to drive a tractor and showed me the proper ways to gamble. My friends introduced me to walks at midnight through the pastures and cornfields. And my boss, Jane, she changed my outlook on life. She was so strong and was always smiling and bickering with the customers. She had cancer that spread to her whole body but she never once let it stop her, even through the Chemo and countless medications, she was one of the liveliest people I’ve ever met. She always encouraged me to follow my dreams and was the first person I told when I decided to go to Hebron. I only knew her a year and yet she was the hardest to say goodbye to, and a month after starting Hebron my grandma called to tell me she had passed away.

     My town helped make me who I am. I will never forget the people I met or the stories they shared, and I will always carry them in my heart no matter where I go. They taught me to try new things, to speak up and be more confident. I learned what it’s like to have an unlimited amount of people who care about you and support you no matter what.

     So, as I take my last look at the deserted town, I silently thank it for giving me everything I didn’t know I needed. I smile, look up at the Oklahoma sky, and breath in the smell of my home, my favorite smell, sun, farm, and smoke from the grill. I jump down onto the stairs and slowly make my way to the waiting car, ready for my next adventure.