From the Suburbs to the Country to the City—A Transition into Baltimore Living

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Or Delaware, or Northern
Virginia, for that matter.

Suburban Baltimore was uncharted territory for me at this
time three years ago. I was still recovering from the overwhelming transition
of living in bustling Fairfax, Va., to moving to lower, slower Delaware two
years before. I had just acclimated to the pace of country living before a
college opportunity thrust me back into the circuit of city life.

In 2007, I spent the last month of the summer before my
senior year of high school arduously searching the mid-Atlantic for colleges
that offered strong programs in forensic science.

Campus visits at William and Mary, the University of Virginia, West Virginia University and Johns Hopkins University only served to further complicate my decision-making process.

In November of that year, a classmate handed me a postcard
she had received from Villa Julie College (now Stevenson University), and
mentioned they may have a forensics program.

One campus visit, application, acceptance letter and scholarship offer later, I found myself in Stevenson, MD, devoting my time and energy to studying the field of science. That lasted all of two months before I had a life-changing revelation: I hated science.

Today, I am 47 days away from completing my bachelor of
science degree in business communication (but who’s counting?), and am pursuing a career in the field of writing and journalism.

Forensics to reporting … talk about a transition.

I have to admit, throughout my college career I’ve truly come to appreciate this area. Once you get past I-695 traffic and Marylanders’ complete disregard for the functionality of their turn signals, Charm City is actually quite charming.

During my three years as an Owings Mills resident, I’ve grown attached to the locals, the church family I’ve found, and the rich diversity of my school community.

Considering that 36 miles of farmland and chicken coops stand between my home in Delaware and the nearest Chick-fil-A, I’ve also fallen in love with the incredible proximity and convenience of anything and everything I could need in this area.

(Speaking of chicken coops, you can now rest easy knowing I can answer your ever-burning question of why the chicken crossed the road, because I watched him do it. He honestly didn’t give a cock-a-doodle-doo about getting to the other side. He simply wanted to reach safety after a twist of fate and an 8-foot fall led him off a truck crammed with several hundred of his closest feathered friends who were destined to end up back at that Chick-fil-A.)

Despite their initial appearance, transitions rarely work to our detriment. Three years of living as a Marylander have brought me countless opportunities and valuable experiences. Doors have been opened to jobs, I’ve met countless wonderful people I won’t soon forget, and most importantly, I’ve been exposed to a new and inviting area I would otherwise have never considered were it not for the exchange of a post card.

So, thank you, Baltimore community, for opening your arms and embracing this displaced Virginian-turned-Delawarean. You’ve been very hospitable, and I appreciate all you’ve offered me.

I think I’ll stick around in Maryland for a while, and see what other opportunities this area may hold. Who knows, perhaps I’ll even call myself a Virginian-turned-Delawarean-turned-Marylander one day.