There’s No Place Like Home
Sunrise at North Hampton Beach in New Hampshire. Photo by Laura Riggle
Dear New Hampshire,
I missed you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but once I left, I wasn’t planning on turning back. New York had been calling my name for so long, and after becoming an adult, I was too curious to forgo my newfound freedom. But you were always there.
Twenty years of the same neighborhood, same neighbors, same town, same zip code, and the same life. You are where families come to settle, and that’s what I did. I settled for New Hampshire, and I got bored. When I left, my sight was set on the big lights, the tall skyscrapers, and the spontaneity of the city. I expected New York to be enough for me.
While I was gone, every part of you stood still, as if you were waiting for me to come home. You knew me better than I knew myself. I thought I had packed up every memory, personality trait, and belonging and shipped it away.
You became my label when I was in New York: “the girl from New Hampshire.” I never had to claim you like that, and while I should know you so well, I had a hard time describing you. Every person I met complimented your beauty, and it was as if I had been looking right through you.
No matter how hard I try, there is a familiarity in you that cannot be replicated. The family bike rides, the Canobie Lake Park visits, the beach drives, the yard workdays in the garden, and the duplex with the red fence cannot be found in New York, and I feel silly for searching for a new comfort that I already had.
You were the perfect place to grow up in. You offered four seasons and a collection of landscapes to explore: each place and period more lovely than the last. You know I hate winter, but you always came in clutch with “snowed-in” days when I forgot to do my homework. I needed spaces to congregate, so you provided state fairs, lake parties, and hiking trips to keep me company. You knew I needed an outlet for my creativity, giving me a musical theatre community where you knew I would thrive.
You taught me a lot of things. You taught me how to be a defensive driver, as I dodge Mass-holes every summer during tourist season. You humbled me by offering me dirt water in the form of Dunkin Donuts coffee, teaching me to not take for granted the finer things in life. I learned to only buy large things in New Hampshire unless I’ll have to pay sales taxes.
Sometimes the only way to recognize something good is to step away from it. I can’t promise that I won’t leave again. I know there is more to discover in every new place I enter. But I am who I am because of you, no matter what place I escape to next.
Love, Laura
