Vermont is my escape.
It is all too easy to romanticize the natural beauty of this sparsely populated state. The rolling hills and sprawling farmland, the viridian mountains and shimmering glassy lakes attest to a land frozen in time—a bubble of calm in an otherwise tempestuous world. Graced with the privilege of hosting few large cities, the landscape is allowed to flourish untouched by factories and overly urbanized sprawls. The pace of life seems so relaxed and sincere.
The same cannot be said of neighboring states, many of which house bustling metal cities and land scarred by mile after mile of blacktop and landfills. My home in New York is not exempt; the air lacks that brisk quality, the greenery, the vividness of color found in Vermont. I have no worries here. No nagging doubts linger about my future, but an unequivocal assurance that I am finally where I belong.
Vermont is my opportunity.
On that first day of orientation, when I finally met the people I would be spending the rest of my college career with, we were all strangers. All of a sudden I no longer had to hide who I was or who I wanted to be from people who held preconceived notions of my character since elementary school. Attending twelve years of school with the same students meant you could never start over, never remake yourself into the person you desired to become.
Once I was in college, talking with these people I had only just met, I knew they would never judge me on my past. All that mattered was what I did with my life from now on and who I chose to be. So I chose to be me. The real me, who the people in high school never took the time to know. I can chase my dreams here. I can become a world traveler and omnifarious writer. The opportunities are dizzyingly, overwhelmingly extraordinary.
Vermont is my home.
New York will always remain an integral part of me, but it never felt like home as Vermont does. I feel an uncanny belonging, a welcoming beckon when I am here that began the day I first visited my future college and has never waned since. Looking out the window toward the red lake and the mountains silhouetted against a sky on fire with the setting sun, a land unburdened by the chaos of a world running in overdrive, I realize that I have searched for this serenity in my life. Now that I have found it, I can say with undying conviction that I am home.
It is all too easy to romanticize the natural beauty of this sparsely populated state. The rolling hills and sprawling farmland, the viridian mountains and shimmering glassy lakes attest to a land frozen in time—a bubble of calm in an otherwise tempestuous world. Graced with the privilege of hosting few large cities, the landscape is allowed to flourish untouched by factories and overly urbanized sprawls. The pace of life seems so relaxed and sincere.
The same cannot be said of neighboring states, many of which house bustling metal cities and land scarred by mile after mile of blacktop and landfills. My home in New York is not exempt; the air lacks that brisk quality, the greenery, the vividness of color found in Vermont. I have no worries here. No nagging doubts linger about my future, but an unequivocal assurance that I am finally where I belong.
Vermont is my opportunity.
On that first day of orientation, when I finally met the people I would be spending the rest of my college career with, we were all strangers. All of a sudden I no longer had to hide who I was or who I wanted to be from people who held preconceived notions of my character since elementary school. Attending twelve years of school with the same students meant you could never start over, never remake yourself into the person you desired to become.
Once I was in college, talking with these people I had only just met, I knew they would never judge me on my past. All that mattered was what I did with my life from now on and who I chose to be. So I chose to be me. The real me, who the people in high school never took the time to know. I can chase my dreams here. I can become a world traveler and omnifarious writer. The opportunities are dizzyingly, overwhelmingly extraordinary.
Vermont is my home.
New York will always remain an integral part of me, but it never felt like home as Vermont does. I feel an uncanny belonging, a welcoming beckon when I am here that began the day I first visited my future college and has never waned since. Looking out the window toward the red lake and the mountains silhouetted against a sky on fire with the setting sun, a land unburdened by the chaos of a world running in overdrive, I realize that I have searched for this serenity in my life. Now that I have found it, I can say with undying conviction that I am home.
© 2017 Elise Price