This weekend Dave and I traveled to Columbus to see the Buckeyes play the Zips in Ohio Stadium, and it made me miss more than the bells tolling after the stroke of victory.
Columbus is my old friend. It is not a major metropolis akin to New York and LA where the lights never grow dim. Nestled as an outpost between corn and soy fields, it is where I grew up. In the five years I lived there for college, I transformed from a sheepish eighteen-year old to a brazen twenty-three year old. I embraced the city like an older sibling, letting it lead me into trouble and safety when necessary. Columbus embraced me as I embraced it. Now I miss the bitter cold winters and the sweltering summers. I miss my favorite theater and downtown haunts. I miss the exploration of boroughs that contained a million new corners upon each visit. I miss that chapter of my history.
It is not to say I am not excited about new prospects, cities, and friends. It is not to say that life has not taken an upswing with a career and a loving boyfriend. Columbus helped me harbor life’s realities for a period of time, where now those realities have caught up. I miss that tender time of youth and innocence, trapped in a vortex of naivete.