Wyoming is one big town with really long streets. Ask anyone who lives here and they’ll tell you the same. The state of Wyoming is the 9th largest, based on its size, but it’s the least populated, according to the last census. It’s a blessing and a curse.

Having lived in Wyoming all but 6 months of my 43 years, I can attest to the challenges that come with growing up where you were born, as well as benefits. For example, when I tried smoking for the first time, at the age of 14,, at least 4 adults reported my activity to my mother before I returned home that night. Surely she would have drawn her own conclusion, based on the smell alone, but the unsolicited reports omitted the need to do so.

On the flip side, I once mailed payment for my doctor to my vet and payment for my vet to my doctor and they went ahead and worked it out themselves, only calling me once the mail had been received by the intended recipient.

One of my most favorite examples of “small town life” is when a friend visited the island of Tobago and sent me postcard addressed to: Kara Koss | House on the hill by the cemetery | Douglas, WY……and it was delivered. No address, not even a zip code, just a mail carrier that knew where it needed to go.

I recently went to Texas for almost a week and when I got home I could not remember where I left the key to my mailbox. I looked every place I thought it would be i.e. pants pockets, handbag, vehicle, to no avail. I scoffed at the idea I was starting to be “forgetful” and was close to accusing someone else for taking my key.  Feeling stymied and annoyed, I stopped at the bank of mailboxes and discovered that my key wasn’t lost after all. It was exactly where I left it, over a week prior.

Life is good in a small town.