In seventh grade I moved from a suburb of Chicago, Illinois to what I thought would be a suburb of Nashville, Tennessee. A lot of things weren’t quite what I expected.
First, the area we moved too — an outer section of Mount Juliet — was not exactly suburbs. It would be better called a rural area with some subdivisions.
We had to drive about 25 minutes to get to the nearest grocery store. No traffic, just winding roads and hills. We had a few convenience marts / bait shops closer than the grocery stores. So you could grab soda pop or toilet paper if needed. But any real shopping would have to wait.
From our new home’s balcony we could see Old Hickory Lake in the distance and lots of land and trees and a few sections with houses. The view was spectacular! There are a lot more houses and subdivisions now.
Our yard was large, dotted with trees, and edged in wild-growth blackberries and weeds. And snakes. We had snakes.
The bus and new school scared me. The sound of my alarm in the morning seemed cruel and unusual.
There was culture shock and more culture shock. I got called a Yankee more than once. I mean, really, how many years ago was the Civil War?
But eventually the shock wore off.
I found friends and food I liked. Dear friends and yummy food that I still love to this day.
aLightningbug 