by Gabrielle Watkins

I grew up on a farm surrounded by wide-open fields, dirt roads, and the sound of animals waking me up in the morning. Life felt simple there. I had my mom, my dad, my brother, and my dad’s side of the family all around me.

Most days were spent running the gator  through the grass, feeding animals, or climbing trees. I remember the smell of hay in the barn, the rumble of tractors, and the way the sky glowed orange when the sun set behind the fields. At night, the stars looked close enough to touch, and the only sounds were crickets singing and the distant call of an owl.

That farm wasn’t just where I lived, it was my world. That farm felt like home, and I thought it always would be.

But one day, everything changed. My grandmother came and picked me up from the bus stop of my long rocky road from the farm and told me I was moving away from the farm.  At first, I didn’t understand what it meant. Packing up my room felt strange, I was putting pieces of my childhood into boxes, not realizing I wouldn’t see that place again. I held onto little things like my favorite toy tractor, a picture of me with my dad by the barn and placed them carefully into boxes. It felt like I was putting pieces of my childhood away.

When the moving day finally came, I climbed into the car and pressed my face to the window. As we drove away, I watched the fields, the barn, and the trees getting smaller and smaller until they were gone. The farther we went, the smaller everything looked, until it was completely gone. I felt like a part of me was left behind.

Moving to the city was like stepping into another world. The first thing I noticed was the noise. Instead of birds and cows, I heard cars honking, people shouting, and sirens in the distance. The air didn’t smell fresh anymore, it smelled like pavement after rain, exhaust from cars, and food from restaurants we passed. The houses seemed squished together, side by side, with tiny yards that felt nothing like the acres of space I used to have. Even at night, the city wasn’t quiet. Lights from street lamps and buildings replaced the stars, and I missed looking up at the sky and seeing nothing but constellations.

Adjusting to life in the city was hard. I had grown up with so much space to run, but here I had to stay on sidewalks or in crowded parks. People dressed differently, talked differently, and even moved faster. I felt out of place, like a farm kid dropped into a world I didn’t belong to. My mom tried to make the new house feel like home, but I could feel the change in her too. My parents had split custody, and suddenly, my life felt divided.

For a while, I still saw my dad, but then one day, I didn’t anymore. At first, I thought it was temporary, that maybe he was just busy and would come around again. I kept waiting for the phone to ring or for him to show up. But weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, and he never did. Losing the farm was hard, but losing him was harder. It was confusing, painful, and something I didn’t know how to explain. I carried questions that never really had answers.

As time went on, I had to learn how to adjust. I had to learn the “city way” of living, walking down busy sidewalks, getting used to neighbors being so close, and not hearing crickets at night. I learned how to cross busy streets, how to sleep even when the city never seemed quiet, and how to find little comforts in a place that felt so different from what I knew. It wasn’t easy, but slowly, I figured out how to fit in. Over time,  the sidewalks didn’t feel so strange, and I started making memories in the city too. The farm kid inside me still missed the country, but I learned to find pieces of comfort in my new life. But even as I adjusted, a part of me still missed the smell of fresh cut grass, the silence of the country, and the closeness of family on the farm.

Looking back, moving away from the farm was more than just changing houses. It was the moment everything shifted, my family, my home, and even the way I saw the world. It was painful, but it also taught me something important: how to adapt and be stronger, even when life feels unfair or doesn’t go the way you expect.

The city may never feel exactly like the farm, but it became part of who I am, and so did the lessons I learned along the way.