Why St. Louis has my heart...

Sometime last year a comment was made in regards to how unappetizing a trip to St. Louis would be and I tried really hard to not let the comment offend me, but it did. I knew the person who had made the comment and had actually been in the area where they lived so when they made the remark, on top of making me furious in a sense, it made me laugh. The area they are from is what I call cookie cutter, or robot subdivisions. It was a pleasant suburban area with all the nice amenities, Targets, Chipotles, Nordstroms, neatly manicured parks, well paved roads and clean streets. The houses were nice and neighborhoods seemed safe and friendly, but nothing had character. You really had to look for the number on the front of the houses to know you were at the right house because they all looked the same. Obviously it has been some time since these words were said but it's fueled me to compile a little exposé if you will of why this city has my heart.

I've lived in this city my entire lengthy 27, almost 28 years except for a brief stint across the river in Waterloo, Illinois. When I say I've lived in the city, I mean the city. Some of my county friends growing up were under the impression that any location where the Arch could be seen meant you were in the city. Well, not quite. When I was younger it was a struggle getting friends of mine to make the trek all the way down to the city to spend time together due to safety concerns and in all honesty in confused me. I spent the majority of my childhood years in a beautiful 3 story home in the Tower Grove Park neighborhood. This home had so much character to it that I imagined as a child all of the other families who had lived there and what their lives were like since the home was built after the World's Fair in 1907. My room was all the way on the third floor in the finished attic section of the house. A winding wooden staircase took you to my cozy room with the ceilings slanted with the curve of the roof and the solitary window tucked away in the cove between two crawl spaces of unfinished attic. The home had so much of its original hardwood floors and intricate woodworking still in tact nearly a century later. There was an original stained glass window leading up to the second floor that I loved because of the colorful dancing shadows it created on the walls. I still say to this day that if somehow I could find the money to purchase that home I would live back there in a heartbeat.

The house that I grew up in. 

My childhood was filled with make believe in the backyard, rollerblading down our streets with our neighborhood friends and summertime adventures going to the local family owned bakery where my brother and I were on cloud nine when we could purchase a dozen donuts for a mere 3 dollars. My memories include weeknights walking to the Vietnamese restaurant a block over, cramming into a booth while the owner presented us with the most delicious spring rolls and vietnamese noodles. He'd always joke that when I was old enough I would need to get a job there since I knew the menu so well. My dad would also challenge us to order our meals using the actual Vietnamese titles and we'd share a good laugh when we would get corrected after totally butchering them. Being close to this hub of varieties of ethnic foods, my brother and I grew up appreciating many things most children wouldn't. We had this great sense of culture that we might not have had had we lived 25 minutes away, tucked away in a quaint little subdivision.

A recent snowy morning run at Tower Grove Park.

When I married, my husband and I moved to West County because of the proximity to his job and the surprising affordability of what we thought was a fairly nice apartment in a pretty nice part of the county. After about a year, I was bored. I wanted to be able to walk out my door and go over to Jay's international market to get a sampling of strange candies from around the world, I wanted to be within walking distance of Tower Grove Park, I wanted to sit on the brick patio of a coffee shop and watch the cars pass by on the busy streets and the families walking their dogs in the neighborhood. WalMart wasn't quite the idea I had in mind when I wanted a little bit of culture in my life.

Recently single I decided that this was my opportunity to come back home. Back to my city girl roots. Having gone through a pretty traumatic separation I could have crumbled and become a recluse to the rest of the world. Instead I decided that I would fill my life with the little adventures I had wanted in my marriage, even if it meant alone, I was going to enjoy life. I remember one of the first Saturdays that I ventured out alone. I took a trip over to Cherokee street and stepped into my now very favorite coffee house, The Mud House. Instantly I fell in love. The mish mash of decor on the wall ranging from vintage bikes, to milk crates filled with well worn and well loved books, the arrangement of wooden tables filled with people studying, sharing breakfast with a loved one or diving into a book, the crazy kind tattooed girl working behind the counter that meticulously makes the best chai latte you'll ever have...this was home.

A cozy Saturday morning at The Mud House.

As a photographer, I began documenting my adventures through Instagram, using the #stllove hashtag so others could share in my lovely city. From Food Truck Fridays to warm summer evenings sipping on a local craft beer on Art Hill watching (and quoting the majority of) the Princess Bride. From muggy Saturday afternoons chugging beer and cheering on my favorite baseball team to crisp fall mornings taking in the local artisan fare with my mom at The Botanical Gardens. From getting inked up at the hole in the wall tattoo shop on Jefferson to savoring tapas and fine cocktails at Sanctuaria in The Grove.

Nothing beats Cardinal's baseball. Nothing.

Here's why I choose St. Louis:

I'd much rather sit in a crowded back room of a restaurant with a roaring fire sampling Spanish Meatballs and Steamed Mussels, enjoying a house made Sangria and the company of my parents than an overrated chain restaurant eating a cheeseburger while some awful version of Happy Birthday is clapped over in the background. (Trust me I worked at the latter, that was enough.)

I'd rather spend my summer evenings standing in food truck lines, meeting new people, getting tastes of the best food in the area than sit in an air conditioned movie theater where I just spent half my paycheck for the stale popcorn I'm eating.

I'd much rather dig through racks of someone else's previously owned cardigan sweaters to find the perfect yellow one to match my new sundress than fight with parking lot villians at the local mall.

The sea salt and bacon chocolate chip cookie from Whisk is a must.

I'd much rather get my morning coffee and pastries from small businesses like The Mud House and Whisk Bakery where people take the time to be courteous and the workers appreciate your business than wait in line behind the tons of people waiting to order their over priced lattes at a chain coffee shop.

The beautiful view from my loft.

I'd much rather sit in my living room, staring out at the snow falling on the 100 year old church across the street as homeless people go in for the night to the the attached shelter than have a neighborhood where you can't figure out whose house is whose because they all look the same.

Washington Avenue at night.

This city is filled with such unique experiences, so many adventures you can have just by walking out your front door and I am proud to call this place home. My heart is happy here. I feel alive and inspired here and I look forward to many many years of making memories here.


Staying at the Holiday Inn Express near the Airport and eating at the Chili's attached to the hotel is not experiencing St. Louis, visit me and I will show you St. Louis.

Don't knock it til you try it folks.

St. Louis Style House offers lots of T-Shirts representing neighborhoods in St. Louis. My favorite is the one that says "Fo' Chouteau!"

Square One Brewery is my favorite local distillery and their menu never disappoints.

My friend Nik came in from Pennsylvania and I took her for some chai and waffles at Melt.

Our Art Museum is one of the most beautiful and the best part, it's free.

Getting your produce and making the trip to Soulard's Farmers Market is a must.

Trader Bob's gets my tattoo business. Great guys and great business.

My mouth is watering just looking at this burger from Bailey's Range. You gotta try the Bourbon Mint Iced Tea!

Going to the Farmer's Market? Don't forget to grab one of the best bloody marys around.

All we need is a horizon line.

Back in October of 2011 I was driving in my car listening to the radio when this song from Feist struck a chord with me.

It's titled "The Circle Married the Line". The song tells a story of a couple struggling to see life the same way, they are struggling to make life together work and she sings about just wanting to see a horizon line, just to see the end of it, just to have some clarity.

A little more than two years later I am finally seeing the horizon line. The sun is finally setting on a part of my life that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. It's strange because I feel so torn about it all. There's a side of me that is just ready to breathe deeply and celebrate almost. Yes, celebrate. I struggle when I say that because it seems inherently wrong to celebrate a marriage ending. That's not the part I celebrate though. When everything began I felt like I had betrayed so many elements of who I was and what I wanted out of life by leaving him. There was a line that needed to be drawn though. A person can only withstand so much before breaking and a lot of me was broken.

I celebrate because that brokenness did not overcome me. I did not allow it to define the future I had ahead of me. Months and months of "you cant's, you wont's, you'll never be's" had melted me into a puddle of complete and utter disaster. I surrounded myself with people who reminded me of who I really was and slowly, very slowly I began to rebuild myself.

A few years later and I can look at myself in the mirror and see someone that I never believed I would see after all of this. I wanted to say that I'm someone I never thought I could be, but I think she was there all along, she just needed some prodding to get her fired up.

The other half of me is in mourning. All the could haves, should haves and here's how our lives will be together...it's all just becoming a part of the the past. It's still an internal struggle. You love someone so so much. It hurts your heart so much kind of love. Then that person isn't a part of your life anymore. He's making a life for himself somewhere else, with someone else. It cuts you deeply and you can't help but blame yourself for every little bit of it. Every single mistake you made you blow it up and think, that was it, that's why my marriage didn't survive. Nothing really prepares you in life for that kind of hurt.

I grieve because I gave my heart to someone and I've been working so hard to piece parts of what I gave back together, to learn to trust again, to learn to love again and mostly to learn to love myself.

I'm ready. I want to love again. I feel like I was meant to share my life with someone, so I know that this is not the end in that part of my life. But it is the ending to a part of my life. Seeing him will be hard and it's quite ironic that we see each other for our divorce hearing the day before Valentine's Day.

It's been a long road and so many of you have played such a key role in keeping me afloat and reminding me that I am loved. From the Scofield's who graciously and lovingly opened up their home to me when I needed a place to go, to Jess offering up her bed so I could finally get a full night's sleep in months, to Robert and Erica for giving me a wonderful home, and such great friendship when I felt so alone, to my parents who remind me constantly of what unconditional love is and encourage me so much daily. I am surrounded by so much love. I know that my future ahead of me is bright and beautiful. I thank each and every one of you who have extended kindness and love to me in the past few years.

One chapter in my book is closing, but there are so many more amazing ones ahead of me.

I can see the horizon line.