Dear Michigan,

Oh, sweet Michigan. I really didn't want to do this. I've tried so hard to make it work between us. I really have. You've given me everything you could. I had an amazing childhood here. My life here so far has been so full of love; so protected from harm and so filled simply with the pure joy of living.

It should be enough, I know. The good thing is, for many people, it is. There are numerous people I know who are absolutely in love with living here and would be perfectly content staying here forever. They've made a home and a life and a family of their own here. They feel as if the lakes somehow run within their very skin. They change willingly with the seasons, and their love for you remains unchanged no matter the weather.

And I'm sorry, Michigan, but that's not me. That's not who I am. I think we need to break up.

It's not that I am unappreciative for all that you've given me. I would not be the person I am today without you. Truly. I have been lucky enough to have had the best childhood I could have possibly had.

My parents are wonderful, and I had everything I needed to be happy and more. I still do. From waddling up the hills in my snow pants to sled with my dad in West Branch to burying my sister in the leaves while my mom and Nanny raked them in Rose City, Michigan was the perfect place to grow up.

There were new and different experiences to have with every changing season, and definitely not everyone can say that they have splashed in rain puddles, planted flowers, built a snowman, went swimming, and watched the leaves change colors all within the span of a few months.

As I've gotten older, the colder months proved to be especially hard to get through. The grey of the sky paired with the sharpness of the winter cold is something I used to not be bothered by, or even notice at all.

However, spending two winters in Florida for the last two years really changed a lot. I began to notice I am happier when I can travel away from where I began, and away from the cold. I'm happier when the sharpness on the back of my neck is more likely a sunburn than frostbite.

I know, Michigan, it sounds like I'm just complaining about a little cold weather, and I'll admit it, yes I am. I hate winter. Especially Michigan winter. (Again, I'm sorry.) But it's not only that. I feel much more "me", essentially a better me, when I can spread my wings and go to new places away from home.

As Belle from Beauty and the Beast says (sings), "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell." And, unfortunately, for me, I don't believe staying in Michigan will give me the kind of adventure I so desperately crave.

Think of it this way, Michigan. If you take an octopus out of the water, it can still survive for a short period of time on land by absorbing oxygen through its skin, but you will have to keep putting it back in the water for it to continue living. You could do this, but the octopus will never be completely happy and it will always be staring longingly at the water you took it from every second that you keep it stranded on land.

In this situation, I am the octopus. And you, Michigan, are the land. Please don't keep me stranded.

Please don't think this means you'll never see me again, Michigan. We can still be friends. Close friends, even. I couldn't stay away from you or my family forever if I tried. (Although hopefully someday I can get my family to move with me. I miss them so much when I'm gone. And I need them. A lot.)

I love you, Michigan. There is no other place on Earth like you. I'll be forever thankful for the home you've given me. And it always will be, whether I'm near or far away.

You've taught me who I am, and who I want to be. You've taught me that it's never a bad idea to always have a snow scraper, sunscreen, and an umbrella handy in the car at all times. You've taught me love and you've taught me loss, and have been there for me through them both. But most importantly, you've taught me that no matter where I go or what I do, there will always be room for me in the mitten.

When I finally figure out where I want to go, I hope you'll keep my family safe here. I hope you'll be understanding and supportive of me. You always have been. I'm sorry I have to move on. You will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Sincerely,

Kristin