My Move to New Mexico

By: Emily Mayes

I sat up slowly, my neck hurt from sleeping against the car window and I slowly moved it from side to side. From the back seat I ask, “Where are we?” My dad replies, “We’re just coming into Farmington” I sit up all the way now and crane my sore neck to get a glance of my new hometown. The sight that greets me was not one I expected. It was what I know now as a typical early spring day in Farmington--cold, extremely windy, the sky and everything resembling a grayish color from the winter months.  Just then a huge tumble weed about the size of a Volkswagen came tumbling across the roadway and my dad had to swerve to keep from hitting it. As a girl from the east coast where we had bushes that don’t dry up and blow all around the place, I had never seen an actual tumble weed and felt like I was in some John Wayne movie gone wrong. In fact, I didn’t know such things actually existed. I could no longer keep my displeasure to myself and commented out loud, “Land of enchantment my foot!” Needless to say, my parents were not pleased with my attitude. My dad wanted to know where my sense of adventure had gone and why I resisted this move more than any other. My answer to that was you had never tried to move me to a practically foreign country before this.

You see in the weeks prior to our move from Rochester, Minnesota to Farmington, New Mexico, my friends had filled my mind with all kinds of horror stories about the great state of New Mexico…in fact was it even really a state? “Can you drink the water out there?” “I’ve heard you can’t eat the meat there” “Are you going to have to learn to speak Spanish?” The more intelligent of my friends asked questions like, “Did you know Navajo is one of the hardest languages to learn?” I think maybe two of them knew it was an actual state in the Union. I look back and laugh now because at twelve years old you simply don’t know what you don’t know. But at twelve years old it stirred up some feelings of trepidation about our upcoming move. What IF no one spoke English and we actually couldn’t drink the water?

I was no stranger to moving, my parents built up a lot of equity when we were younger by “flipping” houses; you know buying fixer-uppers, remodeling them, and selling the houses for a profit. I could handle moving across town, boxing things up etc. I even was okay with moving regionally. My family had lived in Maryland and Ohio previously and those moves hadn’t seemed traumatizing at all. I think my age was the factor in this particular move, I was twelve and awkward. The thought of having to start over somewhere new made me want to cry and believe me I did. New school, new church, new friends…no thank you!  

Plus, Farmington was not making a very good first impression. Wind, dirt, and tumbleweeds were not what I would consider aesthetically pleasing. Natural beauty in my eyes was trees and grass--things that were the color green, not tan. I just didn’t expect it to be so…ugly! We pulled up to our new house which was normal enough looking…except for it was made of stucco and resembled Spanish architecture. I was working on having a positive attitude as we drove around, my younger brother and I seeing the town for the first time. I was used to big cities with lots of places to eat and buy things. The lack of these places was disconcerting, as I have always been a commerce minded person. But my parents were happy?!? They were tired of living in bigger cities, commuting, and not being able to put us in public schools (they weren’t safe where we lived in a suburb of Washington, DC in Maryland). I thought we had overcame these problems with our move to Minnesota but my mother, a southern girl, detested the harsh winter weather. Plus it was a better job opportunity for my dad. That being said I was pretty much stuck here.

As I’ve spent the last eleven years of my life growing up here, I’ve realized a lot of things. Life in Farmington has been extremely good for my family, we’ve watched the community grow and seen many areas develop and prosper. I like how it feels like a small town, and have a love/hate relationship with how it seems on some days you know everybody in town. I love the fact there is no traffic and it takes about two minutes from my house to get anywhere. I love the things that make Farmington unique and our diverse culture. My family has grown with the addition of my little brother and sister. But I think the biggest change has come in me.  I consider Farmington to be my home now without a question; I love it here and can’t really imagine being completely happy anywhere else. I’ve learned to see the natural beauty of the land in the mesas, sandstone rock, the San Juan Mountains, sunsets, and wide open spaces. On a recent trip to see our family on the East Coast, I realized the trees I used to long for were really not that great, I hated not being able to see for long distances and felt claustrophobic. Once while visiting my grandparents in West Virginia, my baby sister who was about four or five years old was told to go outside to play in the backyard and didn’t want to. When asked why she didn’t want to go outside she replied “I don’t know how to play out in the jungle”. I couldn’t agree with her more now. I still don’t particularly care for the wind or tumble weeds but I’ve adapted to it and hardly notice these elements anymore. I’m shocked and offended when I’m visiting on the East Coast and I’m told I’ll need to pay international postage rate to mail a postcard back home to friends, I mean really who doesn’t know New Mexico is state? I roll my eyes when I’m asked if I can drink the water “out there”. I am a small town, New Mexican girl now and that’s quite alright with me.