Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I’m not gonna lie – I haven’t seen “The Wizard of Oz” in its entirety since I was but a wee little girl, except for random clips I catch on TNT over holiday weekends or the time I YouTubed the clip where you can supposedly see a man hanging from the rafters of the studio where they shot the movie at.

Still, Dorothy and Toto hold a special place in my heart, because I grew up right next door – my hometown has its very own Land of Oz, complete with the tornado house landing on the Wicked Witch of the East. Every June, during Oz Fest, we even host a Toto look alike contest. Little girls wander down the yellow brick road in sparkly ruby red slippers. And I never had to wonder if there was any other place but home, because this always was my home.
And then it wasn’t. A couple years into college, in a town only two hours (but lacking any yellow brick roads) away, I fell in love. I fell in love with a college campus, the sound of cicadas in the trees – something we don’t have a mere two hours north. I fell in love with my friends, with dancing with no inhibitions in a bar, in my own bedroom, in an elementary school playground beside the monkey bars. I fell in love with academia, learned to appreciate not only word flow, but word interpretation. And yes, I fell in love with a boy there. I’m sure you’ll hear more about him as time goes by. Long story short, that little college town, no different to outsiders than my hometown, became my new home, in the way that home means something. It was cozy and safe.

Then I graduated and went and got myself a job. Not just any job, oh no. I got a job in my town with its yellow brick roads, with its Toto look alike contests, with cracks in the sidewalk I’d long since memorized. And this new job of mine? I represent that very place with the yellow brick roads, the little girls in their sparkly ruby red slippers. Three years ago, it was my dream job. It still is, no worries. But I’m not the same girl. That’s what this blog is about, I think. Seeing if that girl still exists, somewhere in me. See if Dorothy was right along. Seeing if there really is no place like home.