I just recently got back from a road trip to Michigan. I laughed, I cried, I drank my weight in caffeine – your typical road trip kinda stuff. Maybe it was the time of day, maybe it was my gas station dieting, or maybe it was the fact that I was looking through the beaten windshield of my lackluster '98 Chevy Prizm, but the American Midwest is a hell of a lot of nothing much to look at.

I drove along I-80 through the gut of America. Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, and Michigan. (Ok, well, to be fair, Michigan was beautiful: Forests, rolling hills, and vineyards... Oh, sweet lord, the vineyards.) 3,000 miles of our wonderful country passed me by, and the one place that really struck me was the place I'd started. In 3,000 miles traveled, the most scenic place was at mile 0; It was you, Boulder.

I couldn't really tell you what I was expecting. Maybe some hilariously haphazard drive like "Tommy Boy" or "Little Miss Sunshine," but I know I at least expected to see some mind blowing landscapes. But as I burned through tank after tank, and one Spotify playlist after the next, it began to dawn on me. Maybe the best is behind me...

I guess what I'm saying, Boulder, is this: I missed you.

How have I missed you? Let me count the ways: I missed your Flatirons. I missed your sun. I missed your thin air. I missed your liberal agenda. I missed your slacklines and I missed your dreads. I missed your Amendment 64 cloud of happiness, your Fro-yo, your frustrated meteorologists. And somehow, though I never thought I would ever say it, I missed your gross upcharge on grocery produce. I missed it, I missed all of it. I ain't ashamed to admit it.

I'm a fool to have ever left you. Will you take me back? I promise to be faithful. I'll hike along your many, many trails, and I'll eat your organic fair trade granola, I'll ; just please take me back. I'm lost without you.

This road trip taught me many things. I learned how to change a spare tire. I also learned how to bust my own window with a cinderblock in torrential rains at 2 am at a rest stop in Nebraska. That's a hell of a life lesson right there. What this trip really taught me was how to love. Not how to love a woman or a man, a friend or family, but a city. I learned how to love my city.

And I do love you Boulder. You're too good to me.