by Rachel Barter ’27 on October 1, 2026
Opinion
A few weeks ago, someone asked me a hypothetical question: If you had the choice between staying in your home state for the rest of your life or traveling the world without ever being allowed back, which would you pick? My immediate answer was that I would stay in Maine.
Most people might answer “home state,” assuming their friends and family are there. But what if your favorite people were free to visit and travel with you? Even after considering that tweak, knowing the people I love could come along, my answer didn’t change: I would still rather stay in Maine for the rest of my life than leave it forever. Most of my peers answered that they would leave without hesitation, probably thinking my choice was crazy.
Why am I so fiercely attached to Maine? Part of it is pure bias born from fortunate childhood memories. But beyond nostalgia, growing up in a small town in a low-density state meant I lived in a bubble. Before college, I rarely caught a glimpse outside of it. To give you a sense of how sheltered my perspective was, I genuinely used to believe that Cumberland Farms, L.L.Bean, and Five Guys existed only in Maine. While the average person knows better, little Rachel assumed everything familiar was unique to her state.
Moving out of state for college shattered that misconception in two surprising ways. First, I learned that Maine wasn’t as isolated or unique as I had imagined. Second, I realized that people and environments beyond my borders were far more similar to home than I feared. Instead of giving in to my small-town instinct to retreat toward comfort whenever I encountered something unfamiliar, I began pushing myself to lean into it.
Since coming to Providence College, I’ve driven highway routes, visited Connecticut and New York for the first time, tried authentic ethnic foods, and built a level of self-sufficiency I didn’t know I had in me, even if I still like to insist that I’m basically a child.
Whether you grew up in a tiny town or right here in Rhode Island, college offers a unique space to stretch your limits. You can hold deep gratitude for where you came from while actively branching out into new places, foods, and relationships. Diving into what makes you uncomfortable doesn’t weaken your connection to home, it simply teaches you who you are becoming on the path ahead.
And to be completely honest? I still don’t know if I’d change my answer to that original question. But at least now, thanks to a few state lines crossed and new foods tried, I actually have to pause and think about it.