Worthington.
I am in love with the town I grew up in. Absolutely in love with it. I was driving home tonight and my entire neighborhood had their garbage cans out because tomorrow is trash day, and it made me so happy. Trash cans. I mean, this seriously impacted me deeply as if we are the only town who ever thought of taking garbage to the curb the night before the trucks come. I love that there is no better place to play ulimate in the world than the field in front of Thomas. I love that I can never go to Chipotle, or Graeter's, or Dalt's without running into people I know. I love that my garage will always smell the same way it did when I folded newspapers every day for four years. And the quietness of the nights. The nights that just breathe home and make you glad to be alive. Make you want to do something spectacular everyday. So many people complain about their boring town and how they can't wait to leave, yet never do. I am desperately in love with mine yet I am never here. Even still, I am only homesick when I am at home. Because it's a wonderful place to live, but a horribly sad place to leave. I can't imagine I owe this to anyone other than my friends and family. They are what I associate most closely with Worthington, and no matter how much I love the trash here, it is them that I come back to see, though only briefly, and it is them that makes it so terribly hard to leave, though it be no one's fault but my own. My life wasn't perfect growing up here, but it was close enough for me to consider myself more blessed than most. And though I suppose I could ask for a different or better first eighteen years, I wouldn't. So to all my friends and family, and my Wton boys especially, please know that I miss you dearly and think of you often, miss you often and think of you dearly.