To all the States I've Lived Before

To Utah,

The first place I ever lived.

A place I should never remember

But I’ve visited you since 

So I know how you look

I do tend to dislike you a little,

Mostly because my sister gets to say

She was born in Germany,

While I get to say

I was born in Utah.

To Oregon,

I barely remember the first time we met,

But knowing how comforting you are to me

I’m sure I felt at home 

To Georgia, 

I wonder which house was ours when I lived here.

Was it the one next to that playground

Where I played with a girl with purple glasses?

Or was it the house that I only remember moving out of,

But not moving into?

To Tennessee, 

I wonder how you are.

Not because I remember you,

But because I don’t.

I remember living here,

But not the life inside it.

It’s all a mystery.

I do hope I get to visit you once again.

Then maybe I’ll uncover some of my forgotten memories. 

To Washington, 

A serious mystery left to uncover

one that I have no recollection of,

To the point where I was quite surprised when I was told I lived here. 

To Georgia,

While I know I lived here twice,

Both memories feel so incomplete

That maybe I smushed them together 

into one.

To California,

Living in the middle of nowhere was interesting,

But you were one of the places I remember more clearly than the others.

Despite being so empty,

To the point where

I can even imagine tumbleweeds in the background

I still want to go back.

To walk down the sidewalk I took to and from school,

Where I would beg my parent to let me eat shaved ice 

Next to the only grocery store in the area

Go to the only restaurant there with not-so-great food

I will, in a sad way, miss you.

To Oregon,

Here I was once again.

Although it was a short visit,

Knowing I’d see you again was nice,

But everything was happening too fast.

So I left without a goodbye.

To New York,

I think if I were a bit older,

I’d enjoy you more.

I couldn’t always appreciate the city for what it was.

All I remember was how messy it was,

Especially our cramped apartment,

Which had a weirdly spacious bathroom.

To Arizona,

You were home to a lot of my firsts.

First best friend.

First time riding a bike.

First time feeling insecure.

I would never want to revisit you,

But I will always,

In some weird way,

I will look back on you fondly.

To California,

I was no longer in the middle of nowhere,

But it was different from the picture-perfect California experience.

Living in the mountains right on top of a ski resort,

It felt like a different time and a different place.

But really, all I remember was making snow angels every chance I got.

To Kansas,

One of the places I miss the most.

You felt so safe and nostalgic to me.

I wish we could’ve stayed longer than we did.

To Alaska,

I never truly appreciated your beauty.

I always thought that you would still be there

Until I left.

To Virginia,

The longest I’ve stayed anywhere.

To the point where it felt weird.

Half of me wanted to stay,

And the other wanted to go.

But I guess it does not matter anymore.

To where I go next,

I don’t know when or where,

but I hope I like you.

I hope I enjoy exploring the new area,

Finding my new favorite coffee shop,

My new favorite spot in the house,

My new favorite spots to hang out,

My new favorite friends.

I hope that it’s somewhere

I don’t grow to hate.