If These 10 Things Make Sense to You, You’ve Been in West Virginia Far Too Long

West Virginia, where the mountains hug you close, pepperoni rolls are considered a food group, and the phrase “Almost Heaven” isn’t just a song—it’s a state of mind. It’s a place where directions involve “holler left,” Sunday dinner still means something, and the porch light might double as a deer-spotting system. If these ten things hit home, congrats—you’ve been in West Virginia far too long, and you probably know at least three people named “Bub.”

You’ve heard “Country Roads” play in public and immediately stopped what you were doing to sing along.

Bonus points if you’ve teared up by verse two. You’re among kin now.

You’ve had to explain that yes, West Virginia is a separate state—and no, you don’t live near Richmond.

Geography classes have failed the rest of the country. We carry the burden with grace.

You’ve given directions using landmarks like “past the old sawmill” or “right before the second curve after the deer crossing.”

GPS doesn’t work here. The mountains decide who gets reception.

You’ve eaten a pepperoni roll and immediately questioned every other regional snack’s existence.

Bread + meat = culinary perfection. No sauce needed. No arguments accepted.

You know that “up the holler” and “down yonder” are precise, measurable distances.

Outsiders may be confused. You? You’re already halfway there.

You’ve seen all four seasons in 24 hours—and just shrugged.

“That’s just mountain weather, hon.”

You’ve been to a family reunion where half the town showed up—and everyone brought the exact same macaroni salad.

You ate all of it. No regrets.

You’ve seen a coal truck, a tractor, and a school bus all backed up behind a single possum—and nobody honked.

We wait patiently. It’s the Appalachian way.

You’ve heard gunshots and thought, “Must be squirrel season.”

Or target practice. Or deer. Or Tuesday.

You’ve seen a breathtaking view from the top of a ridge and said, “Ain’t nowhere better.”

And you meant it.

If you read this while sipping sweet tea on the porch, watching lightning bugs flicker over the hills, and waving at every passing truck whether you know ’em or not—congrats. West Virginia isn’t just where you live—it’s who you are. From coal dust to country ballads, hollers to highlands, this place doesn’t just stay with you—it claims you. So keep your boots muddy, your heart full, and your pepperoni rolls warm—’cause you’re home.

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