Manhappiness

I lived in Manhattan from 1997 to 2002, then moved away. We moved back in 2010. I was reflecting today that not only have I now lived in Manhattan longer than anywhere else in my life, I have been back in Manhattan for just as long as I left.

When I first moved to Manhattan, I was still 17 years old, on the cusp of beginning college and adulthood and the next phase of my journey. I lived in Smurthwaite Scholarship House, on the corner of Manhattan and Claflin. I did not have a car. My exposure to the rest of the city was limited to what I could cover on my own two feet. I started dating my now-husband, who also lacked a vehicle, and we spent hours and hours covering the city streets as we walked together. Bluemont Hill. Aggieville. City Park. Once, we borrowed a car from my dear high school friend and drove all the way to the west side of town to play mini-golf on a dilapidated course. I was panicked as Anderson Avenue curved into the night, only accustomed to the grid-like streets of my hometown of Wichita.

By the time we moved away from Manhattan in 2002, both the city and our perspective had begun to widen. My husband and I had not one, not two, but three vehicles between the two of us, and the city expanded. We explored more neighborhoods and talked about where we would want to live someday. We were united that we would never move to Candlewood, a newer west-side development that we felt lacked soul (which only guaranteed that we would, in fact, buy a house in that area when we returned in 2010). Driving through the streets at Christmastime, we agreed that Sharingbrook was perhaps the fanciest neighborhood in the world, and wondered if anyone would turn us in for not belonging as we drove through to ogle the holiday lights. A Target and Home Depot opened on the west side of town. Suddenly, the east-side Wal-Mart gleaned a little bit duller.

My husband and I were fortunate enough to both be hired by our alma mater in 2010. When we moved back to Manhattan, I scarcely recognized the town. The entire east-side had previously been dilapidated, rusty warehouses. Gone was that district and in its place, a glistening Hy-Vee Grocery Store, Best Buy, Bed Bath and Beyond, Olive Garden, every store we had previously made pilgrimages an hour away to Topeka to shop. Wal-Mart had moved and was now a Super Wal-Mart; in its place was a Hobby Lobby. My husband and I were a little worried that living in a town we had come of age in previously would prove to be dull and provincial, and we accordingly made plans to purchase a boat. We could not have been more wrong, forgetting that adding children to the mix means life is never dull, and the boat never came to fruition.

As we close 2018, the town I originally moved to more than 20 years ago seems a relic of a different era. Instead of driving two hours to Kansas City, I now regularly fly out of the Manhattan Regional Airport. Streets in Aggieville are now one-way, continually confusing me when I drive. Much of the Kansas State University campus is now pedestrian-only and my ability to navigate campus continuously slows as well. We live in an area that I did not even now existed until several years ago, and love being able to walk to Old Chicago and Mr. K's Cafe and Bar just down the road. Colbert Hills Golf Course stands out like a crown jewel on the west side of town, a myriad of new housing developments surrounding the green golf course popping up overnight. Roundabouts continue to make their mark on the city streets.

I love Manhattan. I love living in this community. It is not the same community where I first fell in love, but I love it just the same.