2008 Woodie Awards
Observations
Ashley Erb
Issue date: 11/9/07 Section: Post
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Saturday afternoon I found myself staring at the stereo in my living room listening to a high school football game being played over 1,000 miles away. In the small town of Malta, Montana the Huntley Project Red Devils took on the Malta Mustangs; the winner would go on to play in the Montana Class B Football Playoff. And, though it may have been just a high school football game, I desperately wanted to be there.
I wanted to watch Huntley, 8-0, take on Malta, 7-1, in an all out grudge match; to be there, as a Huntley Project alumna, to show my Red Devil pride and support my team. They had already turned this year into one of the best season's Project fans have seen, even after recovering from the loss of last year's 18 seniors. But most of all, I wanted to be there to watch my little brother play in his last high school football game.
Huntley lost to Malta that night, ending their run for the state championship and closing the books on another Red Devil season. And, as silly as it seems, I cried. I cried because I couldn't meet my brother on the field after the game, hug him, look him in the eye, tell him to hold his head high and that I was proud of him. I cried because listening to that football game made me realize how much I missed that little town.
I have been in college for three years now; for three years I've been gone and I am more homesick now ever before. I feel like I should be over this by now, but I am far from it. I remember as a little girl never wanting to spend the night at someone's house because I didn't want to be away from my family. I often ask myself: how did I go from that little girl to an 18-year-old young woman choosing to leave home for a school 1,000 miles away?
I thought it would get easier, but it only seems to get harder. I go home for visits but every time I come back to Oregon I cry harder and longer. Every call home reminds me that I have missed out on something again. My friends call to see when I am coming home, but I'm not. My brothers won a state basketball championship; I'm 1,000 miles away. My father lost an election; I am 1,000 miles away. My mom calls to say she misses me but I am still 1,000 miles away. It's the Thanksgivings, Easters, and Birthdays that really hurt and just sending a card doesn't seem to help.
I wanted to watch Huntley, 8-0, take on Malta, 7-1, in an all out grudge match; to be there, as a Huntley Project alumna, to show my Red Devil pride and support my team. They had already turned this year into one of the best season's Project fans have seen, even after recovering from the loss of last year's 18 seniors. But most of all, I wanted to be there to watch my little brother play in his last high school football game.
Huntley lost to Malta that night, ending their run for the state championship and closing the books on another Red Devil season. And, as silly as it seems, I cried. I cried because I couldn't meet my brother on the field after the game, hug him, look him in the eye, tell him to hold his head high and that I was proud of him. I cried because listening to that football game made me realize how much I missed that little town.
I have been in college for three years now; for three years I've been gone and I am more homesick now ever before. I feel like I should be over this by now, but I am far from it. I remember as a little girl never wanting to spend the night at someone's house because I didn't want to be away from my family. I often ask myself: how did I go from that little girl to an 18-year-old young woman choosing to leave home for a school 1,000 miles away?
I thought it would get easier, but it only seems to get harder. I go home for visits but every time I come back to Oregon I cry harder and longer. Every call home reminds me that I have missed out on something again. My friends call to see when I am coming home, but I'm not. My brothers won a state basketball championship; I'm 1,000 miles away. My father lost an election; I am 1,000 miles away. My mom calls to say she misses me but I am still 1,000 miles away. It's the Thanksgivings, Easters, and Birthdays that really hurt and just sending a card doesn't seem to help.
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