“Trust me, I’m your mother.” She stood and stretched her arms above her head, and it was like staring at a reflection of my future self. We shared the same light skin with a natural blush and faint dusting of freckles, and the same naturally wavy auburn hair, except the tips of mine were dyed hot pink and she had highlights to cover the gray. At five-foot-three, she was shorter than me by one inch, and we were both small-boned with almost nonexistent boobs. The only feature we didn’t have in common was our eye color. Hers were baby blue, and mine were a combination of brown and green with flecks of gold. I got those from my dad. “Moving you out of Nappanee twenty-one years ago was the best decision I ever made.”

After my dad died, she hadn’t wanted to be a burden on her folks, so when her well-connected best friend from college (my honorary Aunt Heather) found her a rent-stabilized apartment in Manhattan and a job with health insurance and a 401(k) at her father’s medical practice, she packed her bags and toddler and headed east. She was now a certified physician assistant and a proud New Yorker. “You can go anywhere in the world and recognize good pizza and bagels. The tap water here is amazing! And what about the ethnic and cultural diversity? You can’t find the same mix of world influences in small-town America.” She leaned down and tapped my nose. “Trust me,” she repeated. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

She was correct. I didn’t. But I couldn’t find the words to express my increasing wanderlust for an environment so different from the one where I’d spent most of my life. Mom would say I watched too many Hallmark movies and romanticized small-town life. She wouldn’t be wrong.

My best friend Kate and I had a two-person book club where we read romance novels by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Brenda Jackson, and Kristan Higgins, to name a few, set in quaint towns. And what began in high school as a once-a-year movie marathon in our pajamas branched into a yearlong tradition of monthly movie dates during Hallmark’s Winterfest, Countdown to Valentine’s Day, Spring Fling, June Weddings, Christmas in July, Summer Nights, Fall Harvest, and finally Countdown to Christmas.

After returning our empty glasses to the kitchen, Mom stood before me. “Heading to bed. You?”

“I’m going to stay out here for a bit. Not tired. Sweet dreams, Mom.”

“You too, Squirt. You working tomorrow?”

“Not until noon.” I had a shift at the café the next day. Living with my mom allowed me to save money, since she generously paid all the rent while I handled smaller expenses like utilities, internet, and our various streaming services. But I needed to stand on my own eventually.