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I had been blessed with growing up in a small town until the age of just fourteen. When I was that age my life changed completely. I went from the village of Debica, were I grew up, went to school to the big city of Chicago. Everything was new and big for me. By comparing and contrasting these to "worlds" we can see how different they are and why life in a small town was better to me. In my memories, small towns are full of joy, passion and color.

I was fortunate and a happy kid when my parents and grandmother lived together. We lived in a small village where everybody knew each other - people were nice and friendly. Growing up in a nice house with a yard as big as a two city blocks was not easy. It was a lot of work and responsibility. Every year we hand picked currants, what was my favorite, yet time consuming job. Our whole family and friends would gather every morning until night to help out. We would pick the currants on a hot, humid day from small, green bushes that were planted on our land. Every afternoon my parents and older family members would go out and sell them to different stores. While adults were gone kids and I would play in the yard. So it wasn't all hard work sometimes fun and games took over.
They yard which I called a playground was average size covered with sand and yesterday's toys. Playing in the sand was great. We made different shapes or things out of wet, white sand. Trees were planted around the playground. There were beautiful, green, and full of life trees of different shapes, and sizes. This was perfect for hide and seek games. It was really hard for grown ups to get us to eat dinner or to do other things after all of us got together to play. I spent most of my early childhood playing in this magical kingdom. I knew every last inch of that place better than my own room. These are my childhood memories from a small town that will never be erased from my life.
Life in a big city like Chicago was totally different. Houses are closer together and yards are so tiny. Their size reminded me of my playground full with sand and toys. There was nobody to talk to. People seem to be less kind and always on the run. School was less fun than at home. New faces, new students and new environment that was all too strange and cold for me. The city is without a doubt bigger, busier but less colorful than the village that I grew up in. The welcome that I experienced was full of gray shadows of colors; my excitement vanished in thin air and I started

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