#30: It's not you, it's me

Minnesota, we need to talk.

My darling state, with your adorable little summers and Twin Cities, we've had a good run, haven't we? Twenty years is a long time, for any relationship. We should be proud we made it this long.

But... (there always is a 'but,' isn't there?) we've been growing apart. I think we both knew it was only a matter of time until your snowy, cold side pushed me over the edge. Now, now, don't cry. I didn't mean that in a bad way! It's really not you. It's me. No, really! Some people love your cold, snowy side. The side that dumps two feet of snow in the driveway and makes driving to the grocery store an arctic expedition. But I've done some serious soul searching and I think I need a little more sunshine in my life. A little less flannel and down and a little more linen and bikinis.

You've taught me so much, Minnesota: how to build snowmen, drive on black ice, how not to merge onto a highway and the importance of keeping a winter survival kit in my car. Now I need new learning opportunities, a chance to grow in new directions, to learn how to cook okra and properly pronounce "ya'll." So I think it's time for us to take a break, Minnesota, and see other states.

Lord knows I'll miss you, even while I bask in the sunny 65-degree days well into February. You've given me so much. Even though I wasn't born here, you opened up your frigid little heart to me. We've got some good memories, you and I, and even weekend trips to the ocean won't make me forget 20 years of white Christmases; annual fall trips to the apple orchard amid consistently beautiful red, gold and orange leaves; the view from 394 eastbound just past highway 100 that makes the Minneapolis skyline look like a cross between Oz and a pocket-sized New York City; and the lakes! Of all your beautiful features, I think I'll miss your lakes most of all, Minnesota. Unlike many of your other residents, I can't claim to have learned to swim on your shores (I think the first pool mom threw me into was in Chicago) but your lakes have always brought peace to my troubled mind, a shiver of excitement on a long weekend with my friends and a feeling of stability in my life. No matter how much I misplaced or lost through my years, your lakes always stayed where I left them.

Of course it's not just the way you look on the surface that I'll miss, Minnesota. You have introduced me to high school and college friends I will never forget. And, of course, I have not forgotten that you were the one who made meeting Sir possible. Unfortunately he just couldn't handle your extreme winters. So really, if you want someone to blame for this fissure in our relationship, blame him. Or yourself, really. You're the one who lured him here with your seductive employment promises. Oh, come on now. Don't act like that! I was only joking!

You must know that you've made a permanent imprint on my soul, Minnesota, (I will never be able to tolerate anyone [even myself!] who complains about the "cold" weather when the mercury sits anywhere above 20 degrees.) and I hope that, somehow, I'm leaving a piece of myself with you. Let's not end this relationship with hard feelings and abandonment issues. Face it, we're still going to see a lot of each other. My friends and family still run in your circles, and try as I might, I just can't believe that I won't be planning my next trip home the moment I shut my car door to leave. You'll always be my home, Minnesota, no matter how many other places I find myself at home at along the way. Yours and mine is a special love/hate relationship that is surely everlasting.

So I guess this really isn't a goodbye, Minnesota, more of a thanks. So... Thanks.

I'll miss you.

|