Tonight is my last night in Madison.
My apartment is empty — except for the entryway which is filled with boxes. These boxes have all of my belongings.
When I walk around my living room my footsteps echo throughout the room.
I am done packing, and my life is contained within one Nissan Altima’s worth of boxes and bags. Now that I have a second to breath, I am experiencing these feelings:
- Sadness
- Gratefulness
- Anxiety
- Excitement
- Tiredness
- Back pain
I’m leaving Madison to try something new. I’m moving to Austin, Texas, and before I move I’ll be going to Europe for a month. I hope to write about it.
I’ve lived in Madison for the past two years. Madison is a place. It’s a nice place, but a place is a place is a place. A place doesn’t have feelings. It can’t love you or take care of you.
Madison too isn’t too different than other places. It’s a midwest town. It has a university, and it’s a capitol. There are families and hippies — students and bureaucrats.
I know that a place is a place is a place. I know that Madison is a place. But as I sit here on my bed on the floor in my otherwise empty room, I can’t help but feel that Madison is my place.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this: Thank you Madison for being a place where I could be me. Thank you for being a place where I could meet so many outstanding friends. Thank you for being a place where I could grow.
Thank you Madison. Thank you my friends. Thank you my family. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will miss you.