There is something special about waking up in Wheeling, West Virginia.
It is not just the way the morning light filters through the trees or how the Ohio River glimmers like glass at sunrise. It is the way this city feels. There’s a warmth here, a comfort that cannot be matched anywhere else in the world. When people ask why I love living here, I often find myself smiling, because how do you explain something that has become woven into who you are?
Wheeling feels like home in every way. It is the place I grew up, where familiar faces fill every corner, and even a quick trip to the grocery store can turn into a twenty-minute chat about everything from college football to how fast a friend’s kids are growing. The people here are what make it so special. They are genuinely friendly, not just polite but caring.
When someone in Wheeling asks, “How are you doing?” they truly want to know.
That sense of connection runs deep. I have seen it time and again, especially when someone faces a difficult time. Neighbors cook meals, churches organize fundraisers, and friends show up on doorsteps just to sit and talk. It is the kind of compassion that doesn’t wait to be asked. It simply shows up, and when times are good, this community knows how to celebrate, too. Whether it’s an event at Heritage Port or a neighborhood street fair, a Friday night game at Wheeling University, the Island Stadium, a Saturday at Lockhart Field, or fireworks bursting over the river on the Fourth of July, there are plenty of reasons to come together in our little town.
I love that Wheeling changes with the seasons. Each one feels like a fresh chapter, offering its own reasons to pause and breathe in its splendor. In the fall, the hills that surround us come alive with fiery reds, oranges, and golds. You can almost hear the crunch of leaves underfoot no matter where you go. I think fall is when Wheeling is at its most breathtaking. I love driving along National Road (especially now with the excellent Veteran banners) or hiking along the trails in Oglebay as the air turns crisp.
Then comes winter, when the snow settles softly over the city and everything seems to slow down just a little. We have spent countless evenings bundled up, driving through the Festival of Lights at Oglebay, watching my kids or visitors press their faces to the car windows, their excitement lighting up the night almost as brightly as the displays themselves. It is one of those traditions that never gets old, no matter how many times you’ve seen it.
Spring brings the feeling of renewal. The trees bloom. The riverbanks come alive, and people seem to have a little extra pep in their step. I love those first warm days when you can roll down the car windows and hear the sounds of life returning to the streets. I love the laughter, the music, the hum of lawnmowers in the distance.
Summer in Wheeling? That is when the city feels wide open and alive. Heritage Port fills with festivals and concerts, and evenings stretch long enough for backyard cookouts and front porch sitting. Some of my favorite memories are of sitting outside as the sun sets, lightening bugs flickering in the yard, and that unmistakable sense of contentment washing over me.
What I have come to appreciate most about living here, though, is the sense of family that never fades. My own family’s story is intertwined within this city. Holidays spent gathered around familiar tables, summer afternoons at Wheeling Park pool, and winter sled rides in Oglebay that always seemed to end with hot chocolate and laughter.
While I wasn’t born here, I have been here long enough to claim it as mine.
There is comfort in knowing that the same streets I grew up walking are the ones my children have come to know. It is a feeling that connects generations.
In Wheeling, family is not just about blood. It is about community. It is the friends who have become like siblings, the neighbors who keep an eye on your home when you are away, the teachers who go the extra mile to help your children succeed. It is about seeing the same faces at church, the farmer’s market, or Friday’s fish fry, and knowing you belong to something larger than yourself.
Of course, Wheeling is not perfect. We have had turbulent times and our share of challenges. There have been economic shifts, floods, and growing pains that come with change. But I think that’s part of what makes this city so endearing. Wheeling is resilient. It bends, but it doesn’t break. It remembers where it came from and keeps working toward where it’s going.
I’ve traveled to and lived in many places, but no matter where I go, I always find myself longing for home. Once a New Englander, I ached for the familiarity of home. For the haul down two-mile hill or Fort Henry bridge and the tunnels that greet you as you drive into town, for the sound of the river on a quiet night, and for the people who wave when they see you, even if they don’t know your name. There is a peace here, a sense of belonging that is rare in the world today.
When I think about why I love Wheeling, it is not because it is grand or glamorous. It is because it is real. It is steady and familiar, like an old friend who is always there when you need them. It is where we have built a life, raised a family, and learned that happiness doesn’t come from having everything. It comes from being part of something that matters.
Wheeling is where I have planted my roots, and every season, every smile, every shared memory reminds me why I stay. It is not just where I live.
It is who I am, and there’s nowhere else I would rather call home.
