looneyville: May 2007 Archives
I almost started bawling this evening when the fiance pointed out the fact that I have been trying to ignore all day: tonight is my second to last night in Lawrence. The movers come on Thursday and we will be spending Thursday and possibly Friday night at my parents' place in KC and then we head out.
Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled about this move. We are moving to a part of the country where I have wanted to live for as long as I can remember. I am so exicted about this ... but still incredibly sad about what I am leaving behind.
We left Florida when I was a senior in high school and for a long time I felt sort of ... displaced. Florida was home but my family wasn't there anymore and it wasn't where I spent my summers in college. My high school friends all scattered to go to school and I lost touch. Kansas City was where my parents lived, but that was where the connection ended. I would go home for the summers and be in a place that was still largely foreign to me, without many friends. Lawrence was great but I was only here for nine months at a time. I loved the town but it seemed like I was always coming or going ... until I moved here full time.
I've lived here in some capacity for the last nine years. For the last five years I have been here exclusively. For the first time in forever I feel like I am home. I know that Free State has the best beer and La Prima Tazza has the best coffee. I know that if you want to blow your paycheck on the snazziest food in town you go to Pachamama's and that if you want a slightly less pricey and pretentious meal you go to Teller's. I know that the best place to watch the sun set is from the rocks by the dam at Clinton Lake and that the best place to watch it rise is on your bike, headed out of town. I fell in love with biking again at the river trails and learned to run long on the streets south and west of town. I know that the guys with the "honk for hemp!" signs have been rallying for their cause for over ten years, and that on nice Saturday evenings there will almost always be a guy playing a sax on the corner of 8th and Mass. I know that you have to watch out for the guy with the socks on his hands ... he frequently steps out into traffic. And I know that the guy who dresses like a pirate might seem a little strange but he is actually harmless and very very friendly. I know about the fights to keep Walmart and Starbucks out and about the now twenty year long controversy over the proposed highway through the wetlands.
I came here as a bright eyed and slightly wreckless freshman. I went out a lot. I drank a lot. I made out with a lot of random guys. I had my first serious relationship and found myself walking the streets of Lawrence at 4 a.m. when my heart was completely and utterly broken and it was all I could do to maintain sanity. I calmed down over the years. I funnelled all that energy into mountain biking and then triathlons. I met the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life. I decided to go to law school and smiled when I found out I would get to call this place home for three more years. People and relationships have come and gone (and some have stayed) but the one constant was the backdrop. The strange and silly place that I called home.
And now its time to leave. We are moving to the mountains, to the place we have always wanted to live, but this crazy quirky town will always hold a very special place in my heart. I can't imagine what is going to feel like to point the car west, as we have done so many times in the past, and know that we are not coming back. I have always said that I could live the rest of my life here, and I still believe that's true. I still believe that this town is one of the country's secret gems. A vibrant place full of character and charm and so many people who make it so very special.
I'm ready for new experiences and places and people. But its so very hard to say goodbye.
