48 degrees of chilly September morning air and a Camel Turkish Silver cigarette fill my lungs; ear-buds placed respectively between each lobe chiming the soundtrack from “Little Women”. As I walk down one of the busiest streets of downtown Madison, the journey seems hushed. A couple cars speed by Gorham and State, and I’m assuming it’s ‘take out $%!# and throw it away day’, noticing the garbage pick-up trucks drive along. Funny how, you'd never guess how many footsteps could crowd these enlarged sidewalks and street when the popular main course of Madison awakens. Feels like Christmas in the movies, when looking in store windows at things I’ll never get around nor remember to buy. And for once, I second guess all my thoughts of wanting to leave this town and forget all the memories it holds; for once, in a great while, I again want to call this place my hometown. Though truly, my home is roughly 3 and a 1/2 hours south of here in dear old Peoria, IL. Madison has always welcomed me and showed me things a city nearly its size, could never quite replicate; and just when I feel, I don’t belong here anymore, she pulls me back in on mornings when I couldn’t sleep all night and calls to me, saying, "let’s take a walk, and I’ll show you what you've been missing." She has a way of doing that, as you all may know. For she taught me how to dream bigger, think broader, and dare to create a new. My dear Madison, WI; frozen tundra and summer love of the north, how could I forget you?!