I’ve been to Mesa and back and I’m pleased to announce that it’s still a wonderful place to be. My teenage self is dying right now; I used to hate Mesa with a very particular passion reserved for teenage girls and hometowns. I hated the heat, the dust, the desert landscape, the cacti. I wanted very much to move to England and never call Mesa home again.

Funny, that.

Now, whenever I plan a trip down south it’s going Home, and the anticipation of going is exhilarating. By the time one trip is over I am already planning my next one. After 4+ years of living in Canada I still call Mesa Home.

It’s interesting, though: Home is now a bit divided in my heart. In the past year I have made a few friends in Mayberry. I’ve graduated from University and gotten a job and become more settled here. I have a regular hairstylist (well, I did until a few months ago when she up and quit on me), a family doctor, a massage lady, a butcher. (I don’t really have a butcher. But wouldn’t it be fun if I did?) I’ve relaxed on the whole crazy-clingy wife routine; I’ve finally figured out how to let Poor Kyle do his thing while I do mine. I’ve gotten to where the reverse layout of the local Costco is more familiar than the layout of my old Costco in Mesa (actually Gilbert). I’m more comfortable in the Alberta temple than the Mesa temple (despite getting married in Mesa), because my temple-going years have all been here. (Both temples, incidentally, are two of my least favourite architecturally. I suppose it’s just my fate to bond with homely temples. There are a lot prettier ones, I promise.)

Both images from here.

Just as my teenage self never expected she’d one day miss Mesa, my 21 year-old self couldn’t fathom a time that I’d say what I’m about to say: that Mayberry is kind of starting to feel like home too.

I am aware that this makes me a traitor.

I’m just not aware of what to do about it.

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