Dear Arkansas,

I owe you an apology.

I judged you without knowing you. I made jokes behind your back even though we had never even been properly introduced. I scoffed at the thought of any virtues you might possess. I couldn't imagine raw beauty flowing from you. If these things were true, surely somebody else would have told me about them; would have urged me to visit you. 

But then we met. I walked your hills and ate your food and breathed in your unique beauty. It was truly unlike anywhere I had ever been. It was a loveliness only you can boast. It was a community built upon the tops of your mountains and into the sides of your rocks. People who love art and music. It was very literally some of the best food I have ever eaten. I even licked the salad dressing bowl. Completely clean. 

I sat by your lake and meditated. I found rocks that were astounding, (they made a house full of rock loving girls delighted). I found peace in your tall trees and bountiful flowers. I fell in love with your valleys and hills and all the charm that has been built atop them. 

I was wrong about you, and I'm sorry. 

What I'm trying to say is, I have an Ozark crush. 

I had three days to spend with the love of my life and we went to you for retreat. We were looking to be entertained but still find rest. We wanted adventure while gaining peace. We wanted communication and also laughter. We found the perfect respite in you.  We found that your mountains provided us the shelter we needed to reconnect, and return to our kids happier and closer for having spent that time there together. 

I was wrong about you and I'm sorry. Let's be the best of friends forever and ever. Or at least until I can eat another pecan pie from the Local Fare.