Hays, Kansas.

Not many have heard of this small town in the middle of Kansas, but for me, it means a lot of things.

I have driven the 5 hour road trip from Denver at least once, if not 2 or 3 times, every year of my life.

This random town to a common passerby had become a 2nd home to me.  My mom was born in Hays, Kansas, and eventually moved to Denver, but my Grandma stayed put in this little town and resided there her entire life.

When my Grandma died this past summer, I started to think how this town my family and I have been visiting my whole life, will no longer have a reason to bring us there. Visiting my Grandma took the place of “typical” family vacations because it was the only time the whole family had a few days off, so we used them to stay in Hays and check in with my mom’s mom.

As a kid, this was always annoying and I wondered why we couldn’t go somewhere cool like California or wherever my friends were going for school breaks. However, as I got older and the trips to Hays multiplied, I saw new characteristics associated with this dreaded place.

I started to see the storefronts as unique, the quiet streets as charming, and the people as kind-hearted. I realized you don’t get this same community of local, tight-knit business to resident connection in a big city like Denver. The air was fresh, and sometimes smells like the nearby cattle. The sunsets were worth watching because there were no tall buildings to block the dwindling glow of the sun’s goodbye on your skin. And the sounds of the earth were reserved and calm. All were much needed senses as my Grandma grew older.

As my Grandma’s health declined, our trips to Hays increased. My mom went for weeks at a time, and my family tried to visit more frequently. With each visit, we said goodbye like it would be the last time. The Coronavirus pandemic quickly worsened and restrictions were put in place, making our visits shorter and weirder.

We could only say hi to my Grandma through a window and we spoke through the phone. It felt very much like just watching scenes go by on a television screen. We couldn’t hug her or comfort her. We just stood and watched our own interactions, without physically feeling them. She got tired and frustrated quickly, so after chatting, we would have the remainder of the day on our own in Hays. We ate at the local  restaurants, walked around Main St., stopped into the shops, and frequented the Dairy Queen drive-thru. Even though I had been coming to this town my whole life, it was just now starting to make a home in my heart.

The fact that our time was running short in Hays may have contributed to this, but nonetheless, I was glad to have my eyes opened to the beauty in such a small town.

With about 20,000 residents, Hays is not the smallest town in America by, but compared to my hometown of Denver, it has that small town feel to me. The green sign off of I-70 saying “Exit 159” has become a trigger for my muscle memory to put my shoes back on and gather my things that were spread around the car in the 5 hour drive. Depending on who was in town at this time, my family and I would either go straight to my Grandma’s house to say hello to my mom’s side of the family, or we would check in to the Marriott hotel we would be staying at.

What once used to be a chore to say hello to family I didn’t know very well, and to unpack my stuff at a chain hotel room that I am sharing with my siblings, had become a time of love for the people around me and the town that held me.

After my Grandma passed away, my family made the drive to Hays like we always had, but this time it was different.

My mom was already in Kansas and luckily got to see my Grandma the night before she died in her sleep. My dad drove, which was typical, but without my mom, the trip wasn’t the same. We stopped at Subway for lunch and everyone got fountain sodas, which my mom never allowed, but hey we were working through a loss in the family right? We listened to different music, no one had to stop and use the restroom, and the kids watched several movies. When my mom was with us, she always wanted to listen to her radio stations, stop at rest stops, and didn’t want the kids glued to the screen the whole drive. But, again, this trip had a different purpose.

I thought about how my Grandma and my mom have made this same drive many times in past years. I wonder how many times they had to stop, and if they would get Subway or sodas since it was just them.

For me, I looked out the window a lot more. I soaked in the views of the Kansan prairie grasses that I used to despise so much. For once, I was happy to see the cattle grazing and the flatirons spinning.

When we arrived in Hays, we went straight to my Grandma’s house. Though she had been staying in a nursing home, my mom and her siblings were staying at the house. This would be the first time seeing my mom after receiving the news of my Grandma’s passing, so of course we wanted to see her and the family as soon as possible. Hugs were given, the small talk wasn’t the same as it had been all those years. There was a comfort in the air being with people who all loved my Grandma. It was more joyful than sad because my Grandma had lived a long and fulfilling life of 89 years, and the family was happy to be together. No one else was really dwelling on how this may be the last time we all gather in Hays now that my Grandma was gone, but I was thinking it.

This trip would include organizing my Grandma’s things, and a funeral, and seeing people I hadn’t seen for a bit, and though these things carried a twinge of sadness to them, there was a sense of calm and stillness. Hays had never looked better and I was grateful for the years of coming to this small town. In addition, a coffee house opened up and as an avid coffee shop lover, this just made Hays that much better. Having a nice place to go to with family members to chat and grab a coffee made the difficult time a lot easier, but I was sad to leave it.

Though I had attached resentment to visiting my Grandma as “vacation” as a kid because I wanted to go to the beach with my friends for spring breaks, without these yearly trips, I would have not grown to love this small town as much as I do now.

On the drive back home from Hays, I said goodbye to my Grandma’s house, but everything else I said see you later to. Though we weren’t sure the reason my family would ever be back to Hays, I knew that I would want to come back because it became a destination in my heart.

The simplicity of the streets, the laughter and community at the local coffee shop, and the pureness of nature fell upon me as I was in Hays this latest time. I promised myself it would not be the last.