Just a Small Town Girl?

San Francisco isn’t the only place outside of Southern California that I’ve lived. For about nine months at the turn of the century I lived in Ashland, Oregon. I was a college freshman, convinced that I knew everything about the world. I spent my days in the dorms, surrounding myself with young women who will forever be a part of me. Most of whom have faded from my life; only a handful am I even in contact with through social media.

I cherish those days. Even then I knew that they were fleeting.

Long story short, I got in a car accident, I moved home, I met some people who are still monumental parts of my being.

I don’t know who I would have been had I stayed there, but that’s okay. My life has never been about the ordinary and I don’t regret for a minute the path that I’ve taken.

But that’s not what this is about. This is about Ashland.

I am very fortunate in that my dad lives in this town. I discovered the school through him and have  the opportunity to visit the town that I briefly knew as home. However while I’ve visited a handful of times over the past ten years there was something unique about my visit this month. Since leaving college, this was the first time that I’ve come up in my own car.

My memories of Ashland exist like a slideshow, snapshots of images that stir something inside of me. There are the railroad tracks I drove over my first evening there, a moment that forever created a connection between myself and the girl next door. There’s the movie theatre that I remember standing outside of, waiting to get in to see Scream 3. There’s the Food 4 Less just up the freeway where we got Backstreet Boy necklaces out of a toy machine. 

I refuse to believe that we weren't
the coolest girls on campus

I went off on my own this trip, leaving behind my family while I just wandered through the town. I walked through the park, always one of my favorite parts of Ashland. I looked at the stages for the Shakespeare festival and wondered why I didn’t take advantage of the theatre when I lived in town. Isn’t that why I went there in the first place? I walked by the Starbucks where I used to get hot caramel ciders, browsed through my old favorite stores, and grabbed lunch at a small café I remember loving. I even drank Lithia Water, spring water that was legendary at the college. Older students told us that it tasted like blood. Only the bravest freshman came close. At eighteen I wasn’t very brave.

I like to think San Francisco toughened me up

It’s not like going back to Orange County. Orange County is huge, and I stumble across memories without even trying. I lived there since I was an infant, moving from city to city. I grew up in a wealthy beach community and last year was in an area known to locals as Garbage Grove. I had friends all over, and to this day accidently find places that were since forgotten to me. 

I went here as a child and never forgot it.
Two or so years ago, I accidentally drove by it on my way home from work. 

But Ashland is little and I spent the bulk of my time on campus. The memories are all of a girl that I once was, someone who had her entire life in front of her.

I love the big city. I love the adventures. I love that eight months in and I feel like I barely know San Francisco. I love the crowds, the diversity, and that I can hop on a train and find something new to explore. But if I ever went back to small town life, Ashland would be the place.