Sometimes it's plain interesting to be a tourist in your own city. So when Becca and I were hanging out with my grandparents a few days ago and they suggested going downtown, we decided to make an adventure out of it. We went everywhere, to historic places my grandfather suggested and to fun museums (with the creepy wax people that look like they're about to murder you) and the monorail. We walked a lot and got milkshakes and went into stores we couldn't afford and took lots and lots of pictures.
I'm always the first to say that I'm going to leave our small town when I get older - go up north, perhaps, or to a big city and live in a loft, sipping latte in the early morning. And I still want that. But I do need to remember that sometimes your own city is just as exhilarating as the ones you dream about; all of its history is fascinating as well. The people have stories that they tell in the forms of small restaurants and paintings, and the buildings have a history that we may or may not figure out.
And that's when I remind myself that the sky is blue; the grass is green. The day is hot and we are sweaty but we don't really mind because we're adventurers in our own town, discovering it's secrets and breathing in its details. A breeze whispers past us as we wade in the water and skip through the dirt; it's summer. We have four glorious weeks left to live and make something of ourselves; discover and not be reprimanded for it. So we need to take advantage of it. It's not Europe; not Paris or the Mona Lisa or the Eiffel Tower or Buckingham Palace. But it's home. And before we dream of things far away, across mountains and oceans, we need to embrace the things in front of us.
So go; embrace your town. And see what you can discover.