I blame the hour

for my frankness, but can I just say this?


You don’t have to move back. Trust me. I ‘ve done that. You know, lately, I want to get in my car and I want to drive away from all of this. You have no idea. Really, truly, you don’t. I know you don’t like it here. I hated it here. But give it a chance. It grows on you. Besides, you have people here. You have people who would love you if you’d just give us a shot.  Give us a chance. Don’t just stand on the side as you so often do, afraid to engage because you are convinced you’ll be leaving at any moment. It isn’t right. It isn’t holy to engage so half heartedly. I know you miss the open spaces, the small town, the friendly faces, the mountain. I know, because I have missed corn fields and pouring rain, tin roofs and roosters crowing. I have missed the grey ceiling, the redwood trees that smell so deep and rich as they rot into new earth on the riverbed. I have missed people, music, laughter, food. I know. I know.

It is a hard adjustment.

But give it time.

I want to ball my hands into fists and stamp my feet like a petulant child and whine at you: it isn’t fair! it isn’t fair for you to come here and then to simply leave so soon! It isn’t fair for you to let us know you so simply, so briefly, and then peace out without giving the city a chance.

Come on.

stay a while.

please and thank you,


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