Dear Hattiesburg,
When I first came to you, I already liked you, but for different reasons than I do now. I liked that you were bigger than my small hometown. I liked that other people told me they liked you. I liked you for your location: you were far enough from home to remind me what it meant to be homesick, close to my grandparents when I needed a hug, and you were close to the coast and New Orleans when I needed a getaway. I liked that you were big enough to have a bunch of things to do. I liked that you were a college town while also somehow being so family-oriented. I valued your hospitality, and your sweet sense of community. You didn’t wait for Saturdays to wear your black and gold and support your golden eagles, because you loved them too much to keep the fandom restricted to football season. But all of these feelings were acquired after just a few months together. After a year with you, I realized I loved you. I loved how you treated me after a night out. You were always there to laugh with me instead of at me, and you somehow managed to always handle me with grace and understanding. I loved how you remained so deceivingly peaceful while a wild party could be raging just a few blocks away. I will always love the solid judgment you displayed by placing a Taco Bell so close to campus. I loved how when someone said let’s go to Waffle House that meant spending 10 minutes figuring out which Waffle House to go to. And when Halloween rolled around, I could always meet the entire community at the pop-up Halloween superstore over by your equally wonderful Dirt Cheap.
Truth is, after loving all of those things, I realized I hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of your true beauty. What really made me love you unconditionally was your train station, and the cool sculpture of the man sitting at the front as if to be the station’s own little guard. Your downtown, with its old brick buildings, that always looked so full of stories, and kept me itching to go inside. The black and gold banners that you proudly display throughout all of downtown that always remind me how much I love my Southern Miss. I love your hidden restaurants. The ones that people never think to visit even though they’ve been in Hattiesburg for a while. Every hole-in-the-wall establishment you have that makes you so unique. I love your public library, and its little outdoor hideaway. I love your suburbs, and the way you hid some of them from me, just waiting for me to adventure. You had a way of hiding things from me, begging me to discover you. From my night drives on cobblestone roads and through seemingly abandoned streets, to my day drives through your back roads and by your hidden houses. I love our secret spot. No matter how many people find out about it, I will always know that it’s a special secret we shared. Most of all, I love your memories, and that you so willingly let me have them. You gave me so so much. So much love. So much laughter. So much happiness.
Sadly, our time has passed. You’re the best friend I used to have, and we have become no more than good acquaintances. I don’t see you regularly, and I don’t know you anymore. I know who you used to be, and not what you’ve become. I hold onto memories of the past, and you’re quick to remind me that those memories still exist each time we see each other. But you’ve changed. Without me.
As much as it hurts to not have you in my life anymore, I have to thank you. For everything. You changed me in so many ways. Some good. Some bad. You taught me more about myself than I ever could have learned alone. I will always cherish our time together, and I will never forget all these things that make me love you.
You have my whole heart,
Reagan
