You can live in a high-rise apartment, ride the subway to work, and order your groceries with a swipe—and still have a small-town heart. It’s not about where you live. It’s about how you live. The phrase “small-town heart” evokes more than geography. It’s a mindset, a rhythm, a way of moving through the world with intention, kindness, and a deep appreciation for the little things. It’s waving at strangers, remembering birthdays, and believing that a casserole can say “I’m sorry” better than words ever could.
At its core, a small-town heart values connection over convenience. In small towns, relationships aren’t transactional—they’re foundational. You know your mail carrier’s name. You ask how someone’s mama is doing and genuinely want to hear the answer. That spirit doesn’t disappear when you move to a bigger place. It just travels with you, like a well-worn quilt tucked into your suitcase.
People with small-town hearts tend to build community wherever they go. They’re the ones organizing potlucks in apartment courtyards, checking in on elderly neighbors, and turning coworkers into chosen family. They don’t need a town square to feel at home—they create one.
In a world that glorifies hustle, a small-town heart dares to slow down. It finds joy in porch swings, handwritten notes, and Sunday afternoons with nowhere to be. It’s not about resisting progress— it’s about resisting the pressure to rush through life without savoring it. This doesn’t mean small-town-hearted folks lack ambition. Quite the opposite. They often work hard, dream big, and chase goals with grit. But they do it with their feet on the ground and their values intact. They know success isn’t just about climbing ladders—it’s about lifting others as you go.
A small-town heart trades in kindness. It believes in second chances, front porch confessions, and the healing power of a good laugh. It’s the neighbor who mows your lawn when you’re sick, the teacher who stays late to help a struggling student, the stranger who holds the door just a beat longer.
This kind of heart doesn’t need recognition. It’s not performative. It’s just how you’re raised—or how you choose to be. And in a world that can feel increasingly disconnected, it’s a quiet rebellion to lead with empathy.
John Mellencamp once sang, “I cannot forget from where it is that I come from.” That’s the anthem of a small-town heart. It remembers. It carries the lessons of childhood, the voices of elders, the scent of honeysuckle in the summer air. Even if you’ve swapped gravel roads for city streets, that sense of place lives on in how you treat people and what you hold sacred. You don’t have to live in a small town to embody its spirit. You just have to believe that people matter more than things, that stories are worth listening to, and that life is richer when it’s shared.
So yes, you can live in a big city and still have a small-town heart. You can navigate skyscrapers with the same grace you’d use to cross a country road. You can bring warmth to cold spaces, light to crowded rooms, and a sense of home wherever you go. Because a small-town heart isn’t about where you are. It’s about who you are.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1985 and lives in Grand Cane, Louisiana. She also writes books, which are for sale at The Village Loft in downtown Grand Cane. You can learn more about her at www.jannfranklin.com, or reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com