Too often, I find myself afraid of going to Stop & Shop for fear of running into a classmate, driving around aimlessly on a Saturday afternoon, or growing irrationally excited at the prospect of a coffee run on an otherwise monotonous high school day. These are the moments when Wilton feels the most small. It’s easy to feel suffocated in a town widely considered “isolated” or “tiny,” but as I look back on my time in Wilton, I am reminded how great tiny can be.
I, like many a Wilton student, have often proclaimed that upon my graduation, I plan to move far, far away. I flaunt my intentions to travel the world, meet new people, and perhaps one day live in a city, wherever that city may be. Part of my obsession with this great escape stems from the fact that our beloved town “bubble” is a mere hour-and-a-half train ride away from the Big Apple, a city with arguably opposite characteristics. New York is alive and awake (quite literally the “city that never sleeps”) while Wilton tends to adhere to a strict 9:30 p.m. bedtime. I have yet to meet a classmate who hasn’t embarked on a weekend city excursion. Young people, without fail, will always seek out the unfamiliar. We tell ourselves that there is always a next best thing. As I count down my days at WHS however, I am met with embarrassingly premature (and painfully inescapable) homesickness. Wilton has weaseled its way into my heart.