Self-Reliance

When in the spanse of one woman's life it grows time to discover new worlds, expand horizons, and sever the threads of her interim country, a vocalized gratitude to her ephemeral homeland seems only fitting at the edge of her embarkment.

I claim these as my obvious, undebatable reasons as why you, Wisconsin, shall always be part of me and yet the reasons I have to bid you farewell.

Wisconsin, despite your waylaying, eternal winters, you have rested, comforted, and kept me for beyond the expanse of eight long years--the most growth-filled years of my life up to this juncture, and half of my current existence.

You've been the countryside I have run; you have opened up your trees and hills and valleys and lovely rains and paths to my restless feet for hundreds of miles and would gladly have allowed me still more had I asked.

You've been the place I first was enamored with a boy.

You've been the education that taught me how to read beneath the words, how to paint a picture with my words, how to see the world beyond my eyes.

You have been the church I grew up in, learned to live in, learned to love in.

But you have been the house of my great sadness, too, the home of my biggest fears and worries.

You have been the nights and days I spent in tears, the chilling blanket to my heartbroken soul.

You have been the joyful, turbulent dips in the road--but now it's time to say goodbye.

Still, take heart, my dear Wisconsin, for I shall always come back again to see you smile.