i can breathe in a small town

i'm from a little town in the piedmont triad region of north carolina. i was raised on a rural road, with barns on both ends. a crop field sits vacant behind and in front of my childhood home. i can always tell what season is coming, and which is quietly making its gentle exit, by the height of the corn that stretches to the sky.


i left this town for a while. spread my wings in the big city. only to return the day after graduation to that same rural road, just a few miles down from where i was raised. because that's home. and i can't pretend it's somewhere else, even on days when boredom strikes and the nearest city is 25 minutes away. and the thing is, i love big cities. i feel a deep excitement and stir in the most untouched parts of my heart when visiting friends and family in places where shopping is outside your front door and the sweet hum of nightlife lulls you to sleep. i really do revere it, and the folks who call it home. because home isn't an address, after all.


this post, however, is not about my small town, but another little hub about 45 minutes from my little cottage. lexington, north carolina. barbecue is typically associated with this spot, but when i visit, i steer clear of the little smokehouse restaurants, with their lines out the door and porcelain pigs on the stoop. of their homemade sauces and sky-high banana splits.


instead, i head toward lexington's hidden treasures. every small town has them, you know.


the little diner that only locals know about. that fills up with folks looking for an early bird special around four in the afternoon. where a pitcher of sweet tea is left on the table. where teenagers work after school and during the summer. places tourists overlook on their quest for the nation's best barbecue {and i agree, you can't find any better than lexington.}


first, we stopped at the local thrift store. where i stocked up. yes, my goods are in a {clean} trash bag. this is the country, folks! i found some delicate teal nighties, gorgeous pencil skirts and maybe even a christian dior blouse that will be in my shop soon.

from there, we went a few yards south to the lexington pharmacy. a real, live drug store that looks like the 1940s never left its black and white storefront. inside sits one of the treasures of my heart. a soda shop. with well-loved stools and sweet girls who will ask you if you want your limeade "sweet, sour or in between."

one of our last stops was right beside the pharmacy. a little pastry shop that hits you with a delicious, sweet icing heaven overload as soon as you walk in. it's brightly lit, with dozens of warm goodies waiting patiently behind the counter, hoping you'll break those pesky new years resolutions and indulge. and indulge we did. on french cream eclairs. homemade oatmeal creme pies. and my favorite, warm sugar and apple fritters.

as we drove home, with our bellies full of sugar and the sun turning gold behind us, i smiled as i passed the barbecue crowd. not because they were tourists following a billboard, though undoubtedly most of them were.


but because a hometown is more than its attractions, its shopping, its regional treasures. its carving out that little niche for yourself, which may or may not be the same niche as your neighbor.


and that's the beauty of it. no matter how small the town, its always got room for every person's dreams, aspirations and idealizations. its just big enough.