I was thinking of all the places I have lived and never really thought of as "home." I've had a couple of places I actually went so far as to call home. My Granny's house — that was my sanctuary as a child. I never knew her in another house. I was raised in that house. I feel towards that house like the country song, "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert. The house was a home because of the life that they gave me in it. Now that my grandparents are gone and the house is sold to strangers, it is by no means "home" anymore.

In 2001 I moved to Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I immediately felt "at home." I loved it there and I could've lived there forever. It wasn't the people though. It was the landscape. Mother Nature gave me a home there. Parents came and went, friends too, but I could always find sanctuary in a clear mountain stream, a perfectly powdered snow run, a gorgeous meadow of columbines. Anywhere. All I had to do was go outside my own back door.

More than a decade later, my husband's career has brought me back down south. If I were completely honest with myself or others I would say I never, ever wanted to live in the south again. There are many reasons. I didn't hate it. The people were fine. Everything was "fine." It just was never home.

And then he moved me here. To my town. I didn't know what to think of it when we first saw it. It's tiny, that's for sure. Not a person on the planet would say it isn't. Everybody here is interwoven somehow. I still, two years later, get asked (or told), "You're not from around here, are you?" It's a real line and it's used regularly. And yet, it's never mean. I have never seen such a closeknit community be so open and loving to strangers. We were complete strangers in a strange land. I never want to leave.

I know we will. Plans are already formulating and it makes me sad. Moving used to fill me with excitement. A new adventure! New faces! New places! Let's go! Nowadays though, while I still feel some sense of excitement, I feel sad. I've come to feel like this is my town. My people. I love it as though I've lived here my whole life, just like most of the friends I've made have. I feel home.

I pondered that recently. What about this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere Georgia has gotten me so attached? And then I realized I look at this small, seemingly insignificant to the rest of the world town as a mirror of myself.

It's perfectly flawed. It has everything you may need and barely anything you want. It's intricately woven with the simplest materials. It's a perfect balance of beauty and ugliness. Nothing is perfect, right? It's extremely judgmental and yet, loves unconditionally. It's small in the world and has a huge heart. A take care of your own kind of place and yet anybody here applies to that.

If this town were a person, it would give you the shirt off its back before letting you suffer. That was proven in the news recently when it was shown supporting a local boy who was injured in a swimming accident. Don't mistake that as the only time this place reaches out though! There is never a time that this tiny town isn't helping one another in one way or another. Because it's home. And you can always, always come home.

Kaylee Smith lives in LaFayette.