Can you believe it? As August drew to an end, I found myself feeling slightly fidgety. I could not figure out why. “Perhaps, I’m feeling nervous about classes,” I thought to myself. After all, this is my final year of graduate school, and this is the year to really buckle down and officially get my life together. And yes, that certainly played a role in the fidgety feeling, but oddly enough, only a background role. It suddenly became clear that I’ve been in Boston for nearly one year. This year flew by.
There is so much that I could say about this year on the East Coast. It went nothing as expected, yet as I reflect on these last 365 days in Massachusetts, I cannot help but be grateful for all that Mississippi has given me to share with a different region of the country.
One of my favorite parts of being up here? Speaking with a local and hearing the question, “Where are you from?” Gladly, I tell them, “Mississippi” with a beaming smile. Most people assume I am from Georgia, and I have no idea why.
Mississippi.
Many people wonder what it is like “down there.” And I, though not being much of a talker, am always excited to tell East Coast residents all about how incredible the Deep South truly is.
From the humidity that transcends the day and night, to the grotesque sound of frogs croaking nearby (I do not like frogs). From bellowing laughter and trash talking about favorite and opposing SEC football teams, to sweet tea and dinner on quiet evenings with family and friends or all alone. From extended summers to winters, to pass with a blink of an eye. From quaint small towns with familiar faces and small-owned businesses, to bustling downtown neighborhoods in the Hub City. My mind is flooded with the absolute best when asked about Mississippi.
Do you want to know one saddening realization I’ve had since being in Massachusetts? It is that Mississippi is a grossly misunderstood state. But as I navigate the classrooms, the “T” (what Boston’s subway/train system is called), or day to day interactions with Bostonians, I feel a great sense of honor for every opportunity to share a conversation about southern living, and specifically Mississippi living, with others. It is always great seeing light bulbs go off in people’s minds or hearing them say, “Really? I didn’t know that. I’ll have to visit sometime.” I laugh and tell them they’ll be sad to leave because everyone will be so kind, and they’ll probably eat their fingers off because the food is just that good.
The longer I’m away from home, the more this quote that is commonly attributed to William Faulkner reigns true: “In order to understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi.” I’d certainly like to think my Mississippi roots have given me the ability to grow and understand this newfound way of life in a way I’d probably not be able to had I been born and raised elsewhere.
