I fear I have driven tourism from the state of Arizona due to my incessant and vocal yearning to move back there. That, or I am responsible for increasing tourism tenfold by sending to it hordes of unthinking masses, hell bent on experiencing that state in the manner in which I constantly describe my years there.
My fixation on that sun-struck state may eventually become irritating. My grandstanding and dramatic odes to one of the few naturally beautiful states may eventually become irritating. My craving to go back to the only state that has ever felt like home may eventually become irritating. When I left, it was the right decision. I wanted to……for the most part. Expectations of a better life filled my mind as I contemplated going back east. There is irony in that because so long ago, those same expectations filled the minds of those who contemplated moving west.
The bliss of the southwest caused me to forget why I left the east coast in the first place but I was promptly reminded upon returning east. Here I am now, in my heart, trying to make the best of it, externally, talking about Arizona as if I am the sole discoverer of Providence itself. Have I romanticized the west? Surely not.
Fate must have had a love for me when it sent me back into the darkness that is New Jersey. I remember the night I was struggling with where to move to get away from New Jersey. Again. New Hampshire, where my brother was living, or Texas. It was a tense evening. Yes, I make life altering decisions within a day but stand there like a participant of a flash freeze mob when looking in the frozen foods section, not able to choose between cheese or pepperoni Bagel Bites.
I chose of my own free will. Right? I vocalized the pro’s of moving to New Hampshire, of which there was one: family.
Dear Arizona, thank you for the memories thus far.