Dear Arizona,
I’m not going to hide that I miss you. I certainly don’t miss your weather, but I miss the the familiar atmosphere, the familiar people, the familiar school, the familiar church, and the familiar everything. I mean, it’s not that I don’t love Santa Cruz, and it’s not that I already feel like it’s normal to live here, it’s just every once in a while -when I catch a glimpse of you, such as old papers from school, or bulletins from church- I think of you and wish I was there.
When I see the ocean, leaving you isn’t something I second-guess. Not to be rude. :)
It’s weird that everyone doesn’t know me, like they did at the church, and at school. It’s also pretty weird that my friends don’t know everything about me left and right like they did back when I was with you. In short, it’s really weird that everyone doesn’t know that I’m weird.
I most definitely don’t feel like a Californian, but I feel like a Santa Cruz local… almost. I mean, it’s hard to call yourself a local in Santa Cruz if you don’t have some Santa Cruz story of how strange it is here.
You know, I never really got around much in Arizona other then the valley, and up north. I hardly remember going to the Grand Canyon because I was like two years old.
I still consider myself a Sun Devil, a D-back, a Cardinal, and a Sun proudly. I shall never become a 49ers fan… and I will especially NEVER become a Giants fan, no matter what the circumstances. 
Also, you might want to know that you don’t live up to the stereotype about you only being a dry, brown desert. You’re just excruciatingly hot, but you still have plenty-o-green left in you.
Anyway, I thought that you should know how awesome you were and how much I still miss you.
Your former resident,
Madison
Journey to the Center of Madison 