Someone asked me the other day if I miss New York,
and the unspoken comparison of this small town in their mind is all I could hear.
People keep asking how I'm adjusting, how I like it here.
I'm shrugging it off, laughing a bit at the looks they give,
telling them that this move was me coming home,
and I was to an extent; I was coming home to you.
You, who is so much harder to miss than a city,
who feels more like home than anywhere I have ever been or ever will be,
who I love enough to be happier here than I ever was before.
About the Creator
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