I can’t go anywhere without running into someone I know. Just the other day, I went to the grocery nook and physically bumped into every single other person in the crawlspace. I wish I could just run errands without always having to see Dave, my neighbor from two feet down the floor.

As soon as I do anything, it immediately becomes the business of the whole crawlspace. When I kissed Larry at Harrison’s barbecue last September, every other person I know found out instantaneously! Word sure spreads fast in this small crawlspace. Is it so much to ask for a little privacy every once in a while?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to leave—to see the rest of the house and the world! There are so many places that I have only seen in pictures and through the crack in the door. I wonder if the kitchen is as beautiful as it is in my dreams.

Also, there’s not a lot of opportunity in here for me, not a lot of room for personal growth. Sure, I could spend the rest of my life working for my father at the family restaurant section of the crawlspace. And sometimes that even sounds nice to me. But do I really want to take the easy way out? No. I want to get out of this crawlspace.

I’ve spent so many years of my life doing the same things. Every Sunday, I go to the church corner. Every Tuesday, I take a squirm around the park with Jeanine. At a certain point, you get sick of living life on repeat. I could go to New York City, where there’s more than one bar alcove and the air isn’t so stale.

I know that I will get out of here someday, but I will always have a special place in my heart for this crawlspace and everyone in it. And when I’m out in the world, where the ceilings are so high I can stand all the way up without hitting my head, I’ll be thankful for the community I grew up in.

And who knows? Maybe I’ll decide to raise my kids in this crawlspace.