dear madison

Dear Madison, Wisconsin:

Thanks for this year.

Thanks for not killing me, even when I thought I might die. Thanks for showing me that I can in fact survive outside of academia, and thanks for also showing me that it is, however, where I want to be.

Thanks for your four lakes and for your (okay, New Glarus's) Spotted Cow. Thanks for curry and for dynamite tamales. Thanks for Quann Park and the Prairie Moraine Trail. Thanks for fresh frozen custard and for hot-from-the-fryer cheese curds at the Paradise. Thanks for Frugal Muse bookstore, even if it is hidden in a very, very ugly strip mall.

Thanks for people-watching on State Street and thanks for The Great Dane's beer, even if the B is not crazy about it.

Thanks for Jess and Nicole and Jill and Becky and Mike and Jeff and everyone else who I met here who cleared off a space on their couch and drank wine with me. Thanks for these people, who listened when I needed to talk about the marketing firm and who showed me where to find, among other things, the aforementioned curds and curry, and who went along on dog walks, and who never turned down the offer of a beer.

Thanks for my Wisconsin driver's license photo, in which I look like I eat children for breakfast. I'm pretty glad to replace it next month.

Thanks for giving me an office, where I spent most of the winter weekends holed up and preparing submissions. Thanks for giving me the best possible news--twice in two months. Thanks for freelance work, and yes, thanks for the marketing gig, if only for showing me what I do not want to do with the rest of my life.

Thanks for my own in-unit washer and dryer and dishwasher, two things I am going to miss sorely.

Thanks for being near enough to GB and MSP that I could make frequent visits, and be visited frequently. That helped enormously.

Thanks for the live music: Bon Iver, Josh Ritter, the Hold Steady, the Weakerthans, Against Me!, Sage Francis. Thanks for showing me that when it feels like everything is going wrong, sometimes you just need to stand near the pit at a show and listen to music so loud it's impossible to think of anything else.

Thanks for the accent, which is charming.

Thank you, thank you. I don't think I'll be back, save a couple of visits, and of course I'll visit the nearby Whitewater. But this is probably the end of the road for us, Madison. I don't think you need me, anyway; you've got enough to keep you busy and a wave of new freshmen headed your way. But thank you for--what else?--the memories.



peace,
steena