Since I was around eight years old, I dreamed of getting out. Not much happens in rural North Carolina. The pace of life is slow; the people are chatty, and not much happens without it making headlines of the town gossip train the following day. I always knew small-town life wasn’t for me. I watched movies set in New York City and knew one day I would go somewhere more interesting. But never did I anticipate the feeling of being homesick after moving.
The agriculture industry is a staple in the rural towns of North Carolina. In my town, the big crops used to be tobacco and cotton. The county was the third largest land-wise in North Carolina. We had more land than people. We go to church every Sunday and occasionally go out to eat at one of the local Mexican restaurants in town. No one dresses up for either. The dress code is almost always casual.
It was quiet and unexciting, and every time I went to the grocery store or the gym, I saw at least three people I knew. It felt like I was always being watched.
A few years after college, I finally did it.
I moved to Chicago, Illinois, to start a new life away from Southern twangs, barbeque, and the beloved coastline.
I settled into a new job in marketing, met my current boyfriend, and tried the iconic Chicago hot dog for the first time. As exciting as the city was, something felt off. Settling in somewhere new was more challenging than I thought it would be.
The one thing no one tells you about moving is that your new address will never be where you are from. As much as you can assimilate to your new life, you will always have a part of your roots as your identity. Most people can still hear the southern roots in my accent, and the fast-paced life of Chicago is vastly different than what I was used to. I had to catch up and adjust. Chicago’s job market is competitive, and rent and taxes are expensive; I must step up to live here and that included my driving abilities.
The first time I was driving downtown Chicago, I almost crashed my car. I had a photography gig downtown and was going to the venue. Being someone who took driver’s ed in a town with only a few traffic lights, I had yet to learn how to drive in a busy city—the first part of the drive I quickly handled.
As the traffic gets tricker, I panic the closer I get to State Street. I can feel my heart racing in my chest, trying to stay calm. I start to turn. A car lays on its horn at me. IT’S A ONE WAY STREET. The next street is one-way, but my parking garage is there. How am I going to get there? I drive around in circles for a few minutes until I find the back entrance to the parking garage. Over time, my driving got better, and Chicago became my new home.
Making friends in a new city is hard, living an hour outside of the city, it feels impossible. I made childhood and college friends through mutual activities like after-school sports or a class. Now, I was all on my own. I had co-workers, but the level of professionalism needed always kept me from staying close. I met some friends occasionally, but once our circumstances shifted, they were gone like the wind. After living in a new city for nearly three years, I find myself Face-timing old friends more than going out with new ones.
After a couple of years of adjusting to my new life, I felt differently about where I grew up. It’s as if enough time had passed for me to feel nostalgia’s generous scoop of happiness.
Being homesick after moving I longed for North Carolina and my connection with the state for the last 23 years I lived there. I couldn’t wait to travel to North Carolina again and see all the things I have missed out on since I left- beach days at Sunset Beach, hiking the Appalachian Trail in Ashville, and visiting all my friends in Raleigh. North Carolina looked different to me now, like (think of some clever simile)
Suddenly, all those things I used to hate about small-town North Carolina made me smile.
Being a Southerner is a part of my identity. I could move to a new city, but I can’t forget about where I came from. Finding myself longing for the Ocean and thought of Wilmington and all the memories I created there, for the mountains and missed skiing in Boone. I will always be home to North Carolina, even though I will never live there again.
Sometimes, home was never meant to be your hometown. But that doesn’t mean you won’t get homesick after moving. We find little ways of bringing our culture and meaning to our new life-whatever the zip code.
I am a Chicagoan now, but there will always be a part of me that calls North Carolina home.
After these feelings of being homesick after moving ruminated for a while, I decided the only way to cure my homesickness was to go home for a visit. It felt the same and yet different. I had a new appreciation for what I once hated about growing up in a small town. No matter where I end it up, it will always feel like a piece of home.
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