Where I come from, cows outnumber people.

To say that my hometown is small would be an understatement. I don't live in a city, suburb or even borough.

My family resides in Mammoth, a 200-person farm village nestled between three slightly larger southwestern Pennsylvania towns -- Mt. Pleasant, Greensburg and Latrobe.

Although those areas consist mainly of rural, coal-mining towns, some notable people and things that you might know have come out of those places.

Professional football and banana splits originated in Latrobe, and the Rolling Rock brewery there still produces the green-bottled beer. Mr. Rogers grew up there, and so did Mrs. Paterno.

As a child, I always imagined leaving my sleepy town after college and becoming an SUV-driving city slicker with a big, high-paying job and a small, low-maintenance apartment in a posh, high-rise building.

I figured that as a first-generation college student, my education afforded me the opportunity to leave my rustic existence behind and experience a new lifestyle.

Life apparently had other plans for me.

In about two weeks, I will be moving back into my parents' house and working at the newspaper I grew up reading.

And I'm happy about that.

When I think about it, my future began to unravel the day I left Mammoth for Penn State.

During the last four years, I've come to realize how I need to live somewhere close to my supportive extended family that includes my parents and little brother, my boyfriend, whom I've known since kindergarten, and his parents.

I also realized that moving back home after college provides for me the best of all possible worlds. I'll get to live in a peaceful, quiet place (I can't stand crowds and traffic), but at the same time, I can be in downtown Pittsburgh in 45 minutes to go out or to catch a Pirates game.

If someone had told me during my freshman year that I would be moving back home after leaving Happy Valley, I probably would have laughed in his or her face.

Home is where the heart is. You can always go home again. There's no place like home. I had heard all the clichés.

Four years of living in State College, though, has made me appreciate small-town life. And now I am content with going home again.

I lived in the dorms during my first two years at Penn State, and eventually I adapted to showering in flip-flops, consuming only microwaveable food and carrying a plastic basket of toiletries to and from the bathroom.

Later, when I moved off-campus, I dealt with noisy neighbors and the bottle caps and plastic beer cups that littered my hallway and lawn.

I don't envision having these problems at home since my mom keeps our bathroom clean enough that we can take barefoot showers. And since most of my neighbors are elderly, I'm sure Mammoth's party trash will be kept to a minimum.

Lately, I have been talking to some job-absent friends who dread May 11 because it means moving back home and under their parents' roof again.

But I urge them and other seniors without post-graduation plans to think of the advantages of moving home -- free rent, Mom's home-cooked meals and the ability to wash clothes whenever you want (without waiting in line). It won't be that bad, I promise. And remember that it's not a permanent arrangement.

Even though my Penn State experience has left me with many indelible memories, I will miss certain collegiate quirks -- late-night dollar slices of pizza, a plethora of bars and restaurants in walking distance and a variety of events always going on.

And since I'm leaving Penn State and moving home, I'll also be leaving behind my extracurricular activities and my friends, who will be soon scattering all over the country and the world to take a new job or to retreat home themselves.

The Daily Collegian obviously has had a big influence on my college years. After all, when you devote 40 hours a week to an organization, how can it not? To you all, I wish good luck and happiness.

And for students who have more time here, listen to and respect your teachers. And may you have Jordan Finkelsteins, Gigi Marinos and Gene Foremans who will continue to inspire you and teach you long after you leave Penn State.

To my fellow graduates, wherever you go and whatever you do, I wish you perpetual success and contentment.

No matter if you're going home again or moving far away, we'll always be connected by our four years at Penn State -- our home away from home.

For inspiration, I'll leave you with excerpts from a commencement speech that Kermit the Frog (yes, the Muppet) delivered at a graduation ceremony at Long Island University a few years ago.

"You are no longer tadpoles. The time has come for you to leave the swamp. But I am sure that wherever I go as I travel the world, I will find each and every one of you working your tails off to save other swamps and give those of us who live there a chance to survive.

"...May success and a smile always be yours, even when you are knee-deep in the sticky mud of life."

"...All of us should feel very proud of ourselves -- and just a little bit silly."