Just a small-town girl

Since I could remember my family and I have always vacationed in San Antonio for the summer. Although it's only four hours away and we never really spent more than three days there, it was something I looked forward to every year.

I think because I grew up in a town where main street is the only street, San Antonio always seemed so magical to me. So it was a no-brainer that I decided to celebrate my 21st birthday there.

During our stay, we encountered many interesting situations, my friends and I. From a sassy piano man replacing vulgar lyrics to a 4 Non Blondes song to a three-part tour of Ripley's Believe It Or Not, our weekend away in the city was eventful to say the least.

We kept hearing that the Valley had a doom and gloom feel with heavy rains and dark skies. Meanwhile, we were poolside, soaking up the rays and clinking our glasses together with a toast every round.

The city was in an endless chatter and forever stuck in fast forward, with the sun and moon as the only distinction between day and night. People of all ethnicities roamed the sidewalks, standing out on their own, yet seeming to fit in with perfection.

Music bumped on every turn and each building glowed and twinkled, serving as the night lights of the city that never seems to sleep.

It's not an experience I was used to from my orchard-side home in the Valley, but it's one I fell in love with.

Needless to say, I was saddened to see it all come to an end as I pulled up in my driveway that had mirrors of water scattered throughout.

I stood in my carport, waving goodbye to my friends and watching the glow of their break lights slowly disappear.

All was silent, except the laughter and memories echoing in my head.

I sighed and looked up at the silent, dark cloak over my head, realizing I had one thing the city could never provide. No matter how beautiful it is, nothing beats the night sky from the yard of a country home.