Dear Florida,
I’ve talked a lot of smack about you. Even wrote a blog about you. Three posts in, I had nothing more to say.
I’ve called you miserable, and insufferable. Suffocating and deafening. Hectic and congested, to name a few.
I’ve screamed and cried over you. I’ve even told lies about you.
I’ve tried and tried and dreamed of the day I would say goodbye…
And here we are… goodbye is upon us.
The truth is, I may not really see your worth and beauty until long after I’m gone. Sadly, this is how, too often, we humans operate. We’ve had 7 years together and some days it feels like just yesterday that I arrived, fresh out of college. Eager to work and ready to conquer life. Other days, it feels like I’ve been here for an eternity and I’m finally at the finish line.
You see Florida, you were never part of my plan. You were a stopping point along the way. You were supposed to be a short one. But 7 years have come and gone and now I don’t know how to feel about you.
I graduated university in 2009, statistically the most difficult of years in recent history to find a job. Our country and economy were feeling the hard effects of the 2007 “crash”, and my college “bubble” was burst rather quickly. After a 5 month stint overseas, I was faced with finding a job. A nearly impossible task for a new grad at the time. I ended up here through a college connection and an interview process that nearly broke me.
So I came. Partly out of desperation and partly out of curiosity. Sure, I could do Orlando for a year or two. Why not? You even fulfilled this New York girls long lost childhood desire to live in Florida “where it was warm” (something I didn’t quite realize the depth or breadth of until I got here). So, with a truck full of goods and my parents by my side, I rolled into Central Florida wide eyed and excited. Excited to be living on my own, for a year or two. Excited to have my first job. Excited at the possibility of new friends and new love. All of which I found and all of which were amazing, for a year or two.
Within a 2 1/2 year span, I lived here. I mean, truly lived. Experienced, explored and enjoyed you Florida. I changed jobs, cars and apartments. I made friends and found love. There were hard and lonely days of course, but they were always tempered with an end in sight.
In 2012 I got married, and 2 years turned into 3, then 5 and now 7. Time has a way of blurring the lines of memories. Sharp ones fade and what seemed new, exciting and temporary becomes old, tiring and suffocating. And so here I am, a husband and 2 babies later, about to leave and not totally sure how to feel about it.
I wish I could say that I settled in for the long haul with grace and dignity. But the truth is, I’ve been kicking and screaming to anyone who will listen, mostly to God and even at times, to you Florida.
Yes, I’ve found myself here. I’ve become a wife and mother here, and a deeper woman here. But I’ve also lost myself here a little too. I’ve allowed my joy to run dry Florida, and I’ve blamed you for it. Letting go of control of my own life and surrendering to God is not something I have done well. And it has been easier to blame you Florida instead of addressing my own issues.
So I’m sorry Florida.
I’m sorry that I hated you so much. The lessons I’ve learned here have changed me and I am determined not to make the same mistakes twice. I’m sorry that you were caught in the crossfire of my growing experience.
I’m sorry that I missed out on some of your beauty because my eyes were clouded with selfishness…and a good bit of sweat.
I’ll be seeing you,
Laurel 
Blooming And Becoming 