I have a love/hate relationship with you. I grew up knowing only you, was faithful to you, and committed myself to your sports teams, school systems, and extra-curricular events. I’ll give it to you–I moved to Ohio for college, which is hardly treason. Yeah, I know, they’re weirdos, but it’s only one state away. Living in Ohio brought all sorts of confusion in my life; in Indy, the “Eastside” and “Westside” are merely geographical terms. In Cincinnati, they are grounds for battle. This made me appreciate you so much more. So much, in fact, that I moved back to you two summers in a row.
Alright, alright, I moved to North Carolina for a year. But please know–my love for you never left. In fact, my roots as a Hoosier grew deeper the further I moved away. During this time, my love for the your beloved football team, the Indianapolis Colts, grew even bigger. I watched every game that I could, not just ones that were an excuse to be social. No one cared about the Colts besides a fellow Indianapolisan, so by nature, we stuck together.
After a year down south, I moved back to the Promise Land (i.e., you). I experienced a new side of town, new traffic routes, and even gained a new love for El Rodeo. I got to enjoy my parents’ company, something suddenly foreign, on a weekly basis. I met people that have the same love for Jesus + you and welp, grew close with them, too.
In all honesty, Indy, as much as I hate to admit it, you have my heart. No matter where I live, or how far away I am, I am proud to be from Indianapolis. No sweet tea, sticks of butter, or East/West battle could ever change that. So here’s to you, hometown, you’ve done your part.