15 years ago today, my family drove from Connecticut to Michigan (well, most of us, and a couple animals thrown in for good measure) to move to Camp Waterloo for good. Or, you know, so my twelve year old brain thought. It has been more days since then than all the days I had been on earth on that day. That was a really convoluted of saying I was young, I was dramatic, and oh by the way, have I said I’m sorry Mom and Dad, like a thousand times?

At the time, it was the worst thing ever. We had just moved three years earlier to Clinton, where I had found some really great friends who I’d never see again (which I now scoff at, as I am in contact with all the ones who mattered all these years later.) I was nearly 13. It was the middle of the school year. Did I mention we were headed to MICHIGAN?

Lauren and I a few years back. We managed to stand the test of time by writing many, many letters to each other.

Looking back, I think moving to Michigan made me more of who I am than I really cared to admit for many years. I learned a lot about many things; what it was like to be different (when your parents are the ones with the weird accent); what it was like to maybe not know everything (like how actually, deer hunting isn’t the worst thing in the world); what it was like to stick to your guns (when you write columns for the town paper about how, wasn’t Michigan part of the north, so why are these confederate flags around?).

I got to live in Michigan, which is really one of the most beautiful states around – if not sometimes terrifyingly dark. I made some really excellently wonderful friends who I am still in contact with to this day, and who I can’t even imagine my life without – they are rocks to me, people who always get me, who always calm me, who are some of my truest true friends. I went from hating Michigan, to trying to explain how I grew up when people ask me where I am from (I say Chicago and it gives me away…but then ask me to say quarter.) I went from leaving Michigan off my history (a few years in college I was trying to play it as a cool Connecticut girl…) to being so proud to have lived there a short time – and defending Michigan, the midwest, and anything about country living to ANYONE who will listen.

And you guys, I was thinking about it the other day. And this is super sappy and so I am sorry, but here goes: YOU GUYS, if we hadn’t moved to Michigan, we wouldn’t have Theo! I haven’t written about my little nephew yet as much as I have wanted to, but you guys. If we hadn’t moved to Michigan, Nikki would have never met Jon, we wouldn’t have ever gone to that Dairy Queen (they both know what I am referring to, a memory I will forever treasure as hilarious), they wouldn’t have dated/not dated/dated again/got married.

And I wouldn’t have the perfect and wonderful nephew I have now. Among the many wonderful and great things about living in Michigan, I think that hindsight makes me so incredibly happy. I can see how living in Michigan has affected everything about who I am and who I am becoming and who I want to be. But that probably is the most tangible one I can see, one that will serve as a reminder of that great state for all my years to come. So, thanks Mom and Dad. Sorry again, we were losers and brats and the worst kind of kids for a patch there.

I love you, Michigan. (And, I love you, Theo.)