Dirt Roads

Dirt Roads

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunglasses:Ray Ban, Chambray: Old Navy, Shorts: Joe’s Jeans, Boots: Madden Girl via Belk, Bracelet: Millie Rae, Necklace: Spike the Punch

We don’t get to chose where we grow up. I spent most of my years questioning why I couldn’t have been born in Manhattan, Los Angeles, the beach. Anywhere but here. What I’ve learned in my 30 years is that I had it all wrong.

I was born in a town where an interstate ends. I still live in that town where that interstate ends. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. There’s something irreplaceable about coming from a small southern town.

Dirt roads. Guns. Four wheelers. Boots. Cutoff’s.

It only took me one failed relationship and an 11 hour drive to a new one that made me realize that.  I learned that it’s not about the size of the diamond, the square footage of the house. I had that, and it only took me 36 hours to walk away, and make another 11 hour drive.

Back home.

I quickly realized that if he’s never shot a gun, never driven a four wheeler, only dines at his beach club and owns anything Lilly Pulitzer, he just isn’t the one for me.

On any day, I’ll take my Southern boy, a campfire and a river bank over all of the luxuries in the world. After all, one can’t control who what their heart beats for.

“I like dirt roads and river banks and something cold to drink. Yeah, some say that ain’t what my life’s about, and one day I’m gonna have to settle down. But not right now.” -Ashton Shepherd, Not Right Now

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