Like hot summer nights, maybe on the fourth of July. The anxious rush of last minute preparations moments before Thanksgiving dinner is served. The taste of a cherry slushy as you sink into the sticky yet comforting moving theater seats. The sound of Christmas classics playing through outdated speakers, barely audible over the eager hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers. The feeling of liberation driving down the wide open highways that seem to stretch on forever. From the top of the Statue of Liberty, to the sparkling lights of the Hollywood sign, to the crystal clear waters in Key West. Bound together by the stars and stripes. United by individuality. Defined by a determination to prevail as one. Proud to sing the tune of freedom and bravery, the ideals that connect us all like a golden thread. No longer do those unarguably powerful statements define the place I call home. When unity and strength have turned into disaffection and hostility. When white picket fences no longer represent the divide between the grass and concrete. When a yearly check up at the doctors means budgeting for months to pay it off. Take me home, Country Roads? Where will these roads take me when home is no longer recognizable? When the glistening skyscrapers no longer reflect sunlight quite the same? When the clear blue waters seem dark and sinister? When the green mountain tops have been blackened by the persistent ignorance of what awaits our future? Ignorance is not bliss. Not when it means ignoring the cry of help echoing from every tree and river. Not when it means ignoring the exorbitant commodification of the most basic human needs. Not when it means ignoring the abuse of those who build our homes and grow our wheat. The 50 stars and 13 stripes no longer seem representative of the values that laid the very foundation of this country. The words spoken and immortalized in ink by those who set the precedent for what we should uphold are no longer observed as verses to live by, but mere letters on a page which can be changed at will. This is not what so many have lived and died for. This is not what so many cross oceans and risk everything for. This is not what we stand for at the beginning of every football game. This is not home. I live now with the memories of what came before and the hope that it is not too late to change the course of what will come after. But for now, bye bye miss American pie.