Small Town Monologue

I packed my things into a small U-Haul. We were leaving the town I had always known, Houston, to go someplace I barely knew, a small town named Navasota. We moved when I was four because my parents wanted us to experience a small town like they had grown up in. Would I find new friends? Would the people there like me? The questions raced in my head as we began to take off. At that moment, I did not realize that the new town and family that would grow from it would have such an impact on the person I became. The loving, but uneducated community and a supportive, working family taught me the value of autonomy, hard work, and care for others. We drove our U-Haul into Navasota, and my mom took us to lunch behind the kind of antiques shop typical for small Texas towns. The waitress took our orders and gave us the lay of the land—local gossip, restaurants to avoid eating at, people who may cause us trouble. She offered to help us move and gave us her phone number if we ever needed anything. I thought this lady seemed pretty nice, and maybe moving to our new town

I refused to wear girls clothes, and my understanding parents felt that if I could do my chores, I could dress myself. These Navasota girls loved wearing pink ruffle shirts with a matching hair ribbons the size of Texas, but I preferred basketball shoes, Nike shorts and my signature “The Wiggles” or “Bob the Builder” t-shirts. Teachers and people around town started questioning my choice in fashion. I remember feeling upset. I didn’t quite fit in. but my family would always tell me “We would love you just as much as if you were in a pickle outfit.” I am fortunate to have parents who love and support me unconditionally. It helped get me through those anxious middle school nights or the nerves I feel before big exams or competitions. A little support goes a long way. Many of my friends aren’t as fortunate to have parents present in their