Going Home - A Girl from the Holler | Wanderfolk Collective Journal

Written somewhere between Florida and the holler.

Going Home

Man, West Virginia

There’s a highway sign just off Route 10 that reads “Man…Next Right.” Every time I see it, something in my chest loosens.

Going home always feels like a piece of me has found its way back to itself. Everything is slower there. 

Unhurried. 

The mountains don’t care what your inbox looks like. The river doesn’t rush for anyone. It’s a chance to step away from city noise and remember what it feels like to live at the speed of a front porch swing.

It means views that aren’t pavement and parking lots. Four-wheeling down dirt roads with no cell service. Family gathered around Momaw’s table with sweet tea sweating in glasses. The kind of connection that doesn’t need Wi-Fi to survive.

Going home also reminds me how far I’ve come. Every mile I’ve traveled, every hard thing I’ve pushed through…standing back in those hollows reminds me that none of it changed who I am at my core.

Before I left for Florida, my Momaw told me something I’ve never stopped repeating. “The same road that takes you out of here will always lead you back home.”

She was right. She always is. 

No matter where I travel, no matter what I build…

I’ll always just be a girl from the holler.

-Katie