The more things change the more they stay the same. Brandon, for example, is the epitome of that. Spending the next 20 days in my hometown lost its novelty in less than 24 hours. It’s great to see my people, but outside of their shining eyes, Brandon, is a haunting frustration. People have asked why I posses such callous feelings towards this city. My response? None.

I recall coming back to this city on numerous occasions and blasting its stature to anyone within earshot. Now I lighly skirt the differences. Maybe I’m just older and the youthful exaggeration of competition has subsided? This time around, older\wiser, I just don’t care. Now I feel like a stranger here in every capacity. Weird. But you know what? That’s exactly the quiet ride off into the distance I wanted.

I miss my mountains. I miss my lakes. Missing Starbucks in hand promenading down the boardwalk. Miss the permeating smell of treated lumber wafting from the mill. I miss E. I miss my cruiser bike. I miss the tiny sanctuary on Marshall Street. I miss Sushi dinners followed by walks by the water. Missing the anything goes. The Tyler McNabbs. Ramin Noodles and stir fry. I miss planes overhead and boats on the water. A run in the park followed by a dip in the lake. Thinking it through. Missing warm evening airs blowing my curtains.  I miss beauty at every angle.

Before I left I informed people I was moving to paradise. Quite clearly, any personal doubt of overstatement vanished when I came back here.