Maybe in a wiener but I love utah and I don't have any wanderlust. Perhaps that makes me a stick in the mud, but it doesn't really bother me.
People complain and constantly want for warmer climes, but I actually like it here. Sometimes I fear the summer will undo me, but I make it through.
I love March. People tell me that it's Utah's ugliest month, but I protest.
March is alive. It's a changing month, it's winter subtly melting into spring. It might not be your typical picture of pretty, but there's something exquisite about yellow grads barely turning green. About mud everywhere. About the way the wind blows, chilly, but electric with the taste of change. March is my favorite month to be outside. I love tromping around in sweaters with a chilled nose and cheeks.
And I would miss it all desperately.
But I think that if I knew I would be back here not too far in the future, I might be able to make it through.
"You hate the heat," he said.
"And just think, humidity. I don't think you could handle it."
He teases, but we both know I'd pull my hair out everyday if I thought I'd never be back here. If I thought Florida was meant to be home, but it's not.
Maybe it's a small and dinky place, with no real metropolis, but who needs that?
Here is home.
And that's all there is to it.