I consider myself an east coast girl based on where I was born. And for the time I lived in North Carolina, I fell in love with its abundant forests and foliage. There’s something about the east that has always called me back to it. So, when I was able to begin settling down in Washington, DC after three internships at the Smithsonian and finally landing a full-time job, I thought I would be able to establish a new “home” for myself. I no longer had to work 7 days a week as both an intern and a restaurant hostess. I had ended a toxic relationship and I could finally spend my weekends making new friends and exploring the DC/Maryland/Virginia (DMV) metroplex. But the pandemic had other plans.
Like many people in the world, COVID-19 upended everything I had planned for and looked forward to. In January 2020, I was living in my first apartment by myself: a 372 square-foot studio apartment near Logan Circle, about a 15-minute walk from the White House. The first two and a half months were promising. I was finally living in my own space (albeit a tiny space). I was in the heart of the city, steps away from the most renowned museums, historic sites, and restaurants in America. But by mid-March, the city froze – and then it died.
People we no longer commuting to their offices in the city. Instead of lunch breaks with their coworkers, it was homemade sandwiches alone in their makeshift home offices. Instead of happy hours after work, people commuted from their desk to their couch to follow the latest updates on the virus’s desolation.
After 9 months of living alone in complete isolation—including a COVID-induced trip to the ER by myself, sleepless nights listening to the flash bangs and protests outside my window after George Floyd’s death and watching as they boarded up shop windows in anticipation of the November election—I needed my mom and dad, my brother and sister-in-law, and my baby niece and nephew. Fortunate to have kept my job and been able to work remotely, and with a lease about to expire, I was able to move in with my parents in Texas. Two days before the November 3rd election, my parents came to help me move in with them.
A week later, I was settled in with my parents in Prosper, Texas, about 45 minutes away from where I grew up. When I moved from Austin, Texas to North Carolina to complete graduate school in 2017, I promised I would never move back to Texas. I had spent half my life there. I was ready to finally create adventures in an entirely new place. It felt surreal, like I had travelled back in time and gotten stuck somewhere along the way in an alternate reality or parallel universe. I was in three-dimensional purgatory.
By May of 2021, I had been up and down mentally and was the lowest I had been since college. I was 28 years old, living with my parents, single after an unfortunate attempt with dating apps, juggling financial debt compounded by student loans, and trying to figure out what I wanted in life.
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt guidance, direction, or familiarity. I hadn’t felt at home; I felt lost within myself.
But then I found McKinney. I had visited a few times before and always felt a connection. And in my broken state of mind, going to McKinney was like stepping back to a time and place I never knew I missed until that moment. Historic McKinney in Texas (est. 1848) is like a cross between Stars Hollow and Pleasantville. Though it doesn’t have a gazebo, it does have a charming courthouse/performing arts center right in the heart of the square. Remnants of the town’s past are still carefully preserved in the storefront facades. The old Smith Drug Co. that had been around from c. 1900 to 2009 is now a Goodies gift shop, but the painted bright white letters of the old pharmacy’s name still stand out against the red brick.
The sandstone Corinthian columns and ornate entablature of the original First National Bank building built in the classical revival style c. 1910-1915 provide a striking contrast from the square’s surrounding, red-bricked buildings. Today, the bank is a home décor shop called The Gallery.
There are all kinds of boutiques, wineries, restaurants, antique shops, galleries, hair salons, etc. in McKinney square. There’s even a comic book store and an arcade. Some of my favorite places include:
- Mom and Popcorn Shop – When I wanted to be a child again, I got popcorn and old-fashioned candy here.
- The Menagerie – If I felt like playing pretend, I went to this little antique shop and imagined I lived in a fancy house with mahogany furniture and pretty sculptures. I bought my beloved head bust of Diana there.
- Groovy Co-Op – When I needed some guidance and just a bit of fun, I met with the psychic in this eclectic vintage store with everything from 50’s TV sets to incense and New Age spell books.
- Pantry Restaurant – I reminisced about better times while eating strawberry ice-cream at this cozy home-style restaurant, with gingham tablecloths and board games. The tall, redheaded man who worked there was always smiling and always kind.
- 4R Ranch Vineyards and Winery – When I just wanted to read a book by myself and numb out the world, I hid out here and enjoyed a flight of Texas reds.
All these places, with their unique charm and familiarity, welcomed me home. These places gave me moments of peace, and—while fleeting—hope.
It was in historic McKinney that I realized a solution to my problem of feeling lost. If I love McKinney so dearly, I could write about it. And better yet, I could make an adventure out of exploring more towns like it! Quaint, nostalgic oases in a world where nothing is certain and nothing is saved from change. I am now living in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia and I am settling into my new home. My cats, Bubbles and Meatloaf seem to be liking it. And while the last few months have been an adjustment, I can’t wait to explore and grow and heal.
