An Open Letter To Reno
Dear Reno,
Yes it’s you, the Biggest Little City in the world. I’m taking the time today to write you a letter, simply to thank you for all of the wonderful things you’ve given me.
When people ask me where I’m from, I happily respond with, “Reno.” They always, without a doubt, ask if it’s near Vegas, to which I deny with a look of disgust. Reno, you’re a pretty ratchet place in some areas, but you are no Las Vegas and for that I thank you. Sure 4th Street may not be the best part of town and yeah, maybe downtown is a little sketchy and run down, but still Reno, you are not and will never be Las Vegas.
You’ve given me some of the best friends I’ve ever known. You’ve given me people to surround me when life gets hard, people to hold my hand when I’m sad, people to laugh with when something awesome happens. You’ve given me friends that I held hands with at the start of kindergarten, people whose same hands I held at my high school graduation. You’ve been a playground for us, with all your different streets and parks and ice cream shops. We’ve thoroughly enjoyed visiting all of your different landmarks, awestruck like little kids in Disneyland. And for giving me my friends, Reno, I thank you.
You took me in when I was a mere 4 years old and raised me as your own. You’ve given me a home, a place to miss when I’m away at school or on an extended vacation. You’ve given me the sense of security you get when you come home, when you look out of the airplane window and you see the whole city laid out before you like a board game and experience the peace of mind of knowing that of all the places in the world you are home. You’ve given me comfort, and any time I’m sad or angry or happy or excited, there you are with arms wide open waiting to comfort me.
You’ve given me memories. Every important, and not-so-important event in my life, has happened here in Reno—my first kiss, my first heartbreak, the first time I learned to drive (and consequently my first car crash). I learned to play volleyball here, learned how to ride a bike without training wheels, learned that sneaking out isn’t hard to do (don’t tell my mom). Reno, you’ve given me a canvas, upon which to paint my memories.
I find comfort in the fact that I can drive 7 minutes up the hill to the best lookout spot in all of Reno. I find comfort in seeing the green, Wizard of Oz-like glow of the Silver Legacy from the freeway and seeing the twinkling of the Reno sign while rock climbing on the side of the Whitney Peak Hotel. I think it’s incredible how so small and mundane a city can be the most magical place on earth, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not so much the city but the people and the experiences inside of it that really make it so much more than a city.
Still Reno, you aren’t a bad place to live in.
And at least you aren’t Las Vegas.
With all my gratitude,
A Reno Native
