I spent sixteen months in Ithaca, filled with some of the hardest days and sweetest memories. Each weekday spent waiting for the weekend; each Friday and Sunday, one of us making a four hour drive to and away from the other.
I don't miss the long gray winter, the way my bones would anticipate a chill in the air before I even stepped outside. I don't miss those Sunday nights.
But I miss the view of the lake from my kitchen, the hot yoga studio (the only way I survived that winter), margaritas at Viva on Friday nights, and the kindest people I've ever worked with. I miss Saturday mornings at the farmer's market, Sunday hikes to see the falls, the way you could always find a compost bin with a friendly reminder to take a little more care of the earth.
We returned after a two year hiatus to celebrate our anniversary and visit all our old haunts -- Viva, Just a Taste, Buttermilk Falls. We stopped in at Argos both nights for after-dinner drinks and walked back through a dusting of snow.
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