I saw you in my rear view mirror as I headed west on I-80. Your buildings, towered over by the mountains, glimmered in the cloudless summer morning heat. You were beautiful and inviting but still, I made up my mind to leave.
I grew up with you; supported by your church taught by your schools. I found calm in your mountains and parks. Even when I discarded your church I found bars and coffee shops and other ways of finding meaning; you offered much. I had to leave, you did not seem to mind.
It's amazing how so much can change in just a few years but remain the same. I thought about you a lot, it was hard living where I decided to live and, at times, I wanted desperately to come back. I missed the clean streets, the snow, being in the mountains. Would you have me? Would I belong? Or would it just be too awkward? I am too different, it seems shallow to say, but your beer is ......well..... just too weak.
Now, I am living in another completely different town and... I don't really want you anymore. I miss your dry climate during our gray winter days but I would rather just visit. You probably already know that I am not coming back and maybe you don't miss me either. Maybe we can be friends and I could come for a visit once in a while.