Dear Hometown,
Here's the deal. I'm writing to apologize. I know you heard me senior year of high school when I said I couldn't wait to get out and move away. You watched me load up my car and drive west, probably thinking I would forget all about you and never want to come back. I'm writing to tell you that you were wrong. I fell in love with college and I adore all of the friends I made here, but I miss waking up to you every day. I miss the sound of the church bells at six o'clock, and I miss the humming of football games across town on Friday night. I miss falling asleep with my window open and hearing people laugh and talk on their way back from the bars on Friday nights. I miss your atmosphere, but what I miss most of all are the memories we shared.
We've had a pretty awesome twenty years, huh? You watched me fly my first kite, buy my first dress for a middle school dance, and go on my first date. You kept me company on tough days. You looked after me when I walked home from school. You probably cringed a little bit as I drove my car for the first time (the wrong way down a one-way street, I might add). You saw me smile as I deposited my first paycheck, and you kept your composure as I spent it all on clothes and coffee. You gave me my first friend, my first boyfriend, two great proms, and a high school straight out of a movie. I can't thank you enough.
College is fun. We have a ton of great people here. New opportunities are everywhere and I'm really, really happy. I know you're happy for me, too. Next year I'll have an apartment and my very own kitchen. I'll have new windows to look out of and I may be totally out of my element, but it's exciting. I made friends here who get me through difficult days and celebrate with me during exciting times. Still, there are days when a girl just needs familiar sidewalks and her hometown pizza shop.
As much as I'm looking forward to my last few years of college, I can't help but wonder where I'll go from there. It's pretty scary. But I thank you for being a place I can always call home, and I promise you that we still have many future milestones to tackle together. I'll celebrate my twenty-first birthday with you next year. You'll watch me prepare for grad school, apply for my first real-world job and pay my first bill (go easy on me, please). Someday I may move away again for a while, or I may choose to stay. Someday my kids may learn how to ride their bikes with you. I could show them where I used to sit in the library, where the best bagels are, and where my friends and I used to go on First Friday. Trust me, I'll still need you.
Dear hometown, I'm sorry I'm so far away, but I'll see you again in a few weeks for spring break. Until then, please know that I miss seeing familiar faces on the crosswalk and that I miss riding my bike around "just because." I miss salted caramel ice cream from up the street, and just driving for the sake of driving and knowing every curve to the roads. I'm lucky to be someone who misses home, and I'm thankful for that every day. See you soon.
Love,
Me
