So if you would have asked me a few years ago if I could picture myself getting sentimental over Provo, Utah, I would have scoffed. But that is exactly what happened this summer while we were visiting out west. Eric and I took a trip down with our kids to visit BYU, see my brother Darrell's new house and to experience a few old haunts. As we walked around campus I was overwhelmed with nostalgia. I can feel it now as I picture walking through the Wilk, driving by my first apartment, and eating at Brick Oven. As cheesy as it sounds, this is probably the place I found myself. This is where I met some of my dearest friends. Its where I learned to live on my own, to use my own resources and depend on my own testimony. Its where I attended many BYU football games, fell in love with several freshman boys, worked shifts that started at 5 AM, stayed up till the wee hours of the morning. Provo is where I met my sweet husband, got married and had my first child. It is where I met my goal of graduating from college. No wonder Provo brings a lot emotion. Its a big part of my life. I believe that part of the attraction of Provo for me is the difference between it and other places. Henefer, the tiny town where I grew up, seems like it never changes. In Henefer, everyone in town always remembers me when I visit, there are all the friendly familiar faces and there will always be (plus or minus a few). BYU isn't that way. As I stood on campus and watched students walk by, I realized that my spot here had been taken. BYU had moved on. As sorry as I was to realize that I was also glad in a way, because it meant that BYU was affording someone else to have the experiences I was able to have. Bittersweet feeling.
Eric and I have talked on and off about moving back to Provo someday. I'd like to think that if we do the experiences we have could compare to those of our "Salad Days!"