The plane touched down at Buffalo Niagara International Airport with a familiar jolt. I looked out of the window as the aircraft taxied to its gate. Memories flooded back, memories of a different time in my life when Buffalo meant late-night cram sessions, laughter with friends, and dreams that seemed as vast as the Great Lakes themselves.
My name is Marcus, and it had been years since I left Buffalo. After college, I’d moved to San Diego to chase the elusive California dream. Life in the Golden State had been exciting and full of opportunities, but something was missing – the friends who’d shared my journey in Buffalo.
As I stood in the airport, waiting at baggage claim, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation mixed with nostalgia. Thanksgiving was around the corner, and I’d decided it was time for a Buffalo homecoming. I missed the people who had been part of the most formative years of my life.
The plan was simple. A small group of us had stayed in touch over the years, and now, we’d all gather in Buffalo to celebrate Thanksgiving. We’d rekindle old friendships and revisit the places where we’d spent countless hours during our college days.
I’d organized to stay with my old roommate, Danny and his wife Susan, who started the plans by recently moving back to Buffalo from Atlanta. They had reconnected with a few others who remained in Buffalo over the years or now lived nearby in the Finger Lakes.
It felt like we were stepping into a time machine, and suddenly, we were twenty years old again, with dreams as high as the city’s towering skyscrapers (ok that was only partially sarcastic, Buffalo has a cool albeit old school skyline).
Marcus
Danny
Susan
When people in San Diego asked me why I was going to Buffalo for Thanksgiving I didn’t really have an answer. Until I went and reconnected with old friends in an old city that could use some new friends.
Our first stop was Elmwood Avenue, the heart of Buffalo’s urban life. We strolled along the street, reminiscing about the nights spent at the local bars, our favorite taco place (which was gone), and the independent bookshop where we’d gather to discuss poetry, politics, and our futures.
Buffalo State hadn’t changed much, but our perspectives certainly had. Each visit to a familiar place brought with it stories, laughter, and sometimes even bittersweet nostalgia. Buffalo’s downtown isn’t looking too good these days, and we all have heard stories of rising crime and poverty in the city.
The Buffalo I’d left behind had grown and evolved, but so had we. Returning to my college town had rekindled a sense of homecoming, not just to a place but to the friendships that had weathered the test of time. It was good to see that Buffalo had stood the test of time as well. I have always liked the city, even with the long cold winters, it always felt warm and welcoming to me.
And so, I boarded the plane back to San Diego, not with sadness, but with a heart full of warmth, knowing that Buffalo and the memories we’d created there would always be a touchstone for our enduring friendships. So here’s to a city which despite the jokes and its cold winters, will always have a warm place in my heart.
