The flutter of a wing scored the morning scene as the barn swallows soared beneath wooden beams. Sunlight slipped through the gaps of the crooked barn paneling as the swallows sang their final song before migrating southeast.
The barn swallow’s flight is an inevitable change, a whispered farewell to life as it knows it. Watching the bird, I couldn’t help but see myself traverse beyond the foxtail meadows of the farm. I will never forget the final glint of sun that pierced the car window as my family drove me to the airport. Winneconne, a quaint fishing village tucked away in northeast Wisconsin, would now be the place where I returned during breaks from school. As Thanksgiving approaches along with the time to retreat back to rural life, I cannot help but feel deeply grateful for my memories of rural life, yet guilt for choosing to leave it in the rearview mirror.
My decision to attend university out east was my own, but it has not come without doubt. I recall some members of my community and high school questioning my choice with wide yet concerned smiles. The prospect of trading my rural roots for academic aspirations caught me between a suspending balance of gratitude and guilt…