2,000 People, Infinite Community Anonymous

The wind billows through the eaves and tractors bide their time along country roads. Apples are ready for plucking and cider is brewing at the Rinker farm. The smell of manure during spring and mountains of leaves during autumn—that’s home, every quirk, nook, and cranny of it. My home is anything but a city, though our love for one another easily dwarfs the New York City skyline.

Our love is given in a myriad of forms, through tough talks or thoughtful gestures. Ironically, as a Mexican girl living in a majority-white town, it’s the only place I’ve ever felt apart of. Hard work has always been a hallmark of our community, and in a Conservative Christian town, hard work and struggle is a fact of life. Ideologically, My town is the last place someone with my views would want to be, but I cherish my community not for agreeing with me but engaging with me. When I succumbed to woes and excuses, Mrs. Mayberry would chide me to dry my tears and figure it out. When I expressed my dreams and doubts, she would urge me to work toward my goals, saying, “God helps those who help themselves.” My folks have never comforted me, and despite our differences, they have never once doubted me either. It is this zealous faith and affection that is...