Roots

It's rather late as I am sitting here in the Denver airport waiting to catch a red-eye flight out to the east coast in a couple hours. Steven and I are moving to Boston for the summer; he has a really great internship with PWC until the end of August, so this small-town, country girl is headed to live in the big city for a couple months. This summer hiatus will most likely turn into a more permanent position come next years fall as Steve will hopefully be continuing with PWC as a full time accountant. This means adios to my beloved west mountains and open fields with the neat and tidy rows of hay lying freshly swathed across the fields. Those same sweet rows of hay fill the air with a beautiful smell of fresh cut grass mixed with the subtle sound of tractors chugging somewhere in the background.
I know I've lived in Provo for the last 5 years, but I have always loved my beautiful, little Bear Lake. And the fact are that I am going to miss both Provo and Bear Lake. 5 years ago when I moved to Provo I was so scared. I was too terrified of University Parkway that I wouldn't drive past the Dollar Theater because that road has 3 lanes--3!! I thought that the Kimball Tower was a sky scraper, and I was fascinated that I could get a Diet Coke any time I wanted through one of the many drive-thrus littering Bulldog Boulevard. I was living in a city!
Don't get me wrong, I've been to a couple big cities: London, Paris, New York City and Washington D.C. I stood next to the 100+ story sky scraper that stood next to the Twin Towers and was only half the size of those giants. I've stopped at french crepe shops at all hours of the night. I've weaved through the insane freeways throughout D.C. The difference is that those places were all a sight-seeing, vacationing, wonderland that you go visit and oh-and-awe at and then leave. Emphasis on the leave part. Which is what I think has me so frightened.
My town where cows and dogs out number the residents to big-city Provo where I discovered Red Hot Chili Peppers and 3 lane roads and now onto a city that has 5 million residents in the greater area and subways instead of 3 lane highways.
I'll be honest, I am very scared to go do this. In fact, I would not be able to do it without Steven with me. However, I a little birdie told me some good advice as I left work last Friday

"Don't become a big city girl. Remember your roots."

  

As I walked out to my car I thought about that parting, and I realized that's what I was afraid of: becoming a big city girl. It isn't the serpentine roads or the roads that no doubt have more than 1 lane; it's change. I love my life as is. I love where I came from and who that has made me, and I am afraid that moving to a city where I am pretty sure they won't have a Broulim's Grocery or a PCS that you can ride your dirt bike to will change me somehow. However, even knowing why I am scared to move to Boston has somehow lessened the fear, because I know what I have to do now: remember my roots. 

So, here's to some summer plans of living in the city and remaining in the country.