A place....

There is a place nestled east of Stockton in the foothills of the Sierras. In recent years this place has aquired the more status quo stuff like starbucks and lowes and subways. This is a place where the people per square mile is less than the cows, where there are no stop lights, where you can leave your car and front door unlocked at night and nothing will happen. Where the biggest town has 6,000 people.

This place is called Calaveras County.

And this is place that I grew up in. Where I participated in 4-H, raised steers, sheep, goats, and my closest neighbor was over a mile. Where I met my best friends, learned to love football sitting in a crowded home bleacher under the lights on a Friday night. Where I learned to drive. Where I made many mistakes, cried many tears and loved many people.

Everytime I come back I feel differently about this place and the special place it holds in my heart. I went to dinner with my mom on Thursday night and ran into my 4th grade teacher. This morning one of the first people I met in kindergarten called because she knew I was home and wanted to catch up. This afternoon I came to Starbucks to write this post and spent 30 minutes catching up with a friend I haven't seen in 10 years. Like I said everyone knows you, and knows what you are up to even if you haven't been home in eyars.

Coming home under the current conditions makes me look at life a little differently. This place will always have a piece of my heart. No matter where I consider moving or where I end up, there is something about Calaveras County that I can't seem to walk away from.

It's a place that created who I am and helped build the person I am today. And even though its country, and small and there are nosy people here I love it. This is the place I call home and even when I have no idea what I'm doing I know that Calaveras County will always be there if I need a reminder of where I came from.