I love Buffalo. I love living here and I just wouldn't want to live anywhere else. I love the city and its quirky neighborhoods. I love the hockey (GO SABRES!) and even the football. I love the theater and museums. And the restaurants - mmm, the restaurants! We like to eat in Buffalo and it shows. From the eclectic gourmet of Left Bank to a good ol' fashioned chicken finger sub - you just can't beat it.
I love my little slice of suburbia that my husband has dubbed "whoville" just twenty minutes away from well, anything. I love the town dance, the ice cream social, toddler times and even holiday caroling.
I love the four seasons here. The damp smell of spring with blossoming trees. The euphoria that summer brings - trips to the beach or pool, outdoor concerts and a new festival every weekend. The crispness of fall surrounded by autumn colors. And the winters. I even love the snow.
I love the people. The genuine kindness of Buffalonians combined with a sense that we are all merely separated by one or two degrees. A city with a small town heart.
I have lived from coast to coast - from Oregon to Connecticut with a few stops in between. I live in Buffalo because I chose to live here. It is and always will be, home. I truly believe Buffalo is one of the best kept secrets and I like it that way.
But what I love most about living here - is that I am blessed to live among my family, surrounded by a bevy of cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents.
Last night, we all came together to celebrate my grandmother's birthday. As I watched my family laugh together, revel in each other, I felt blessed. And as my cousins, age ten through sixteen, took turns pressing their hands up against my belly to feel the baby move and those hands were joined by that of my mother, and lastly my grandmother, I gave a silent prayer of thanks for living here and for loving Buffalo.
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