My Hometown, My Heart

Hometowns. The place that helps build you, mold you, teach you.

I knew at a young age that my hometown was special. It had a special kind of magic to it. Not the kind of magic that you see in movies or read in books. It’s the kind of magic that you feel in the air or see in the scenery. Pure bliss. I could walk out of my house and look out the backdoor and see the most beautiful mountain peak called La Jicarita, a part of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. I remember taking a moment just to breathe in that view, to capture it in my mind and savor the feeling of peace. That was a sight I can and never will forget.

My family, both sides of it, are from the same community. I was raised with love, with a sense of closeness and community. I was raised to know that the bounties of the land were precious even though it took a lot of work. I grew up in a community that despite the random hiccups and shortcomings, it was a place I wanted to be. I could see the stars at night, so bright and clear. I could envision myself living there for the rest of my life. I could breathe in and fill my lungs with the purest mountain air.

My hometown is called Llano de San Juan Nepomuceno. It’s a smaller community of a valley called Penasco. I went to school, made friends, went to church, grew my faith, and learned life in the various parts of my hometown(s). Most of my schoolmates and teachers were my cousins. I grew up with 2 sets of grandparents living within 10 minutes of me. I was even fortunate enough to have 3 great- grandparents living close, for a portion of my life. It truly was one of the greatest blessings of my life. I grew up with a sister that was a year behind me in school. We defended each other in times of need, and we learned from one another in many ways. I grew up with parents that loved me and did everything that they could to ensure I had everything I could need or want.

I could sit here and write all the negative things that I encountered in my hometown, but that’s not the point of this. I choose to always see the good in the place where I grew up. I choose to see the joy that I experienced growing up. I’m from a place that is so hidden away that there is only so many people that know about it. The tourists that visit, wish they could stay and sometimes eventually move in. It’s been a place of culture, of family and of faith. Growing up it can become a place that you hate, but as an adult, it becomes one of the greatest treasures. I’ve learned to be grateful for the positive things. I’ve become thankful for growing up in such a small and rural community.

I no longer live in the place where I grew up. I live roughly 110 miles south in a home that I own with my fiancé. There are days when I drive him crazy with my small-town stories. I wish that I would return more often than I do to visit the family that I have there or enjoy the different moments of scenery. I wish I could relive moments of growing up on a ranch, playing games with my cousins, or wake up to La Jicarita Peak one more time. Will I ever live in the most magical place again? Maybe not, but it will always hold my heart, and it will be a place that any children I may have will get to experience.