I grew up in the “City Beautiful” and can attest to its beauty. I spent about 16 years of my life living and loving this city. Growing up in Orlando, I came to know every inch of it. I feel as though I didn’t appreciate it back then. Now, my home is in Tampa, FL. I hardly ever get to Orlando anymore, but when I do, I’m reminded of all the beauty I don’t get to see anymore.
It’s a little cheesy, yes, but for me, I can’t even count the memories I have in each part of that city. From summer camps, to jobs, to high school, I know the layout like the back of my hand. Growing up is hard, and no one ever tells you how hard it is to grow up away from your home. I feel I will always consider Orlando as my home. This is my love letter to my hometown.
This is for the 408 Interstate, where people drive far beyond the speed limit. I will never get tired of the curve of the 408 that swerves through downtown Orlando. The way the buildings are lit at night, and the way the SunTrust building’s green peaks are a guarantee no matter the time of day. I miss the glow of the downtown, which I could explore for days. I remember the way the Dr. Phillips building is alight with fire, ready to give you a peak performance. I love the lack of traffic late at night when I’m on my way home from Universal. I could never speak more highly of you, 408.
This is for Winter Park, where I always felt like I could go on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Birthdays or prom photos were always going to be at Winter Park, and I couldn’t wait for it. I loved the little toot of the Sun Rail as it passed by. I miss the Christmas festivities and the farmer’s market. I miss the friend dates I’d have and wish I could transport back to the Goodwill that always seemed to be stocked with clothes in my style and size. I remember my monthly pilgrimages to Trader Joe’s with my mother. Those aisles were the place we bonded over goodies too good to not buy. I could never get bored of you, Winter Park.
This is for Sanford, where I spent most of my time. You were always like a forgotten child; underappreciated and misjudged. But to me, you were where I spent my high school years. Those were very formative years, and I made so many realizations and learned so much. I miss the way that the band kids would raid Taco Bell on Football Fridays because it was the only restaurant the freshmen could walk to. I miss the way the Riverwalk would shine as the sun set over the Saint Johns River. I love the fun, quirky little restaurants that kept spurting up and were always so inviting. I wish I could relive the post-football Wawa trips with my friends — sweaty and stinky from four-layer cotton band uniforms. I hope you never stop making a name for yourself, Sanford.
This is for Orlando. I miss the law firm where I got my first job. I remember the way my makeshift office would overlook a small lake to the right and all the I-4 crashes to my left. For the endless thrift shops where I spent all my money. I think back to the 17-92, which I took religiously to school every morning, waking up an extra half hour early just to allow for traffic.
This is for my home, which was situated in “unincorporated Seminole County.” I always described it as “Winter Park, but on the other side of the train tracks,” so people didn’t think I lived in one of the endless mansions in the “real” Winter Park. To the church where I met my best friend and the surrounding shops that we’d always gossip in when we met up on Saturdays. This is an ode to Red Bug Lake Park, where I spent years doing every sport imaginable, and where I spent many birthdays.
I will always love you, Orlando. I hope to see you soon.
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