I've gotten asked about this several times (which makes me think that the people doing the asking haven't really considered what it'd be like to live in rural Wyoming without a family and without any family members within 800 miles) but anyway...
It turns out that I fell in love with Appalachia without knowing it. I had going Out West so stuck in my head that I didn't realize how much I loved where I was, or maybe it just took me coming out here to figure it out.
I miss driving down 664 between Logan and Lancaster. I miss all the crazy festivals they have in South-Eastern Ohio. I miss the way fog collects in the valleys in West Virginia, so you can just see the tops of the mountains, black against the evening sky. I miss Kentucky, Ale-8, the Red, white churches with steeples along every highway, West Virginia, the New, and the Monongahela Wilderness (but not enough to check to make sure I'm spelling it right). I was so afraid I'd come to Wyoming and never want to leave...and here I am, in the Rockies, 6,700-some feet about sea-level, and all I want to do is go back.
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