When I think of you, I think of a winter sunset behind one of your Cedar trees, or a sunrise that I can see from the top of that hill I used to go to with my friends. When I think of you, I think of me, in the way that someone thinks of a memory from years ago.

You are the posters that used to hang on my wall of bands I loved but now no longer listen to. Sometimes, I'll be at a party or shuffling songs on a Spotify playlist, and I suddenly hear that familiar song I used to know all the words to. When I hear it, I am no longer wherever I am in that moment. Instead, I'm with you, dancing barefoot on a carpeted floor, singing as loudly as I possibly can.

You are the faces that, like those songs, I once knew well. You are the smiles of people I loved, the ones of childhood friends as they sat in coffee shops or told stories in living rooms. You are the eyes, illuminated by early onset nostalgia, reflecting florescent Christmas lights that lined streets during winter months. You are the other faces, the ones that I was already starting to miss, like old sweaters with holes that you still wear to sleep because you can’t throw them away yet, no matter how torn they are.

You are the streets I used to walk, on the way to school and on the way back home, with a backpack full of heavy books, a mind full of imagination and a heart full of feelings I was feeling for the first time.

I used to know your streets, each alley and every short cut, like I knew the freckles that would bloom on my nose and cheeks during the summer months. But it’s autumn now, and each day is cooler, slowly erasing those summer freckles from my face. Each day, I discover new parts of this new city that I live in now, that I left you for. I find new reasons to fall in love with the trees in the park and the coffee shop around the corner with the good espresso. And I also find new reasons to hate the tourists on the sidewalk and the subway delays. Here, I am beginning a love affair with the streets I am just learning the names of and the tops of buildings that always seem to be kissing the sky.

Though leaving you was bittersweet, I am beginning to think of my departure as more sweet than bitter. I used to fear that if my feet left your land for too long, for good, that I would forget everything you were to me. You held some of my best memories, and some of my worst ones. You helped me become who I am, and for that I am grateful. But truthfully, I had to leave you to move on, to grow up, and to finally become that person you taught me to be. I know you are there, with your sunsets and your sunrises, with your familiar streets lined with Christmas lights and Cedar trees, bursting with memories, for me to call home.