So many opinions!
I grew up in the burbs of a major east coast city (so did my husband, but it was different city than I grew up in), spent a decade in the midwest, and actually cried the night my husband first brought me to New Mexico for his new job. (It was so brown and barren! In retrospect, it was the end of August–which is perhaps the ugliest time of year here.) But the place grows on you. Maybe it’s the lack of pretentiousness, maybe it’s the warmth & friendliness of the people, maybe it’s the smell of chile roasting in the fall and piñon burning in the winter. Or the taste of a green chile cheeseburger on summer’s afternoon or a bowl of posole on a cold December’s evening. There is an emptiness and a haunting, rugged beauty to the land. I can travel 25 minutes from house and see the Milky Way in the night sky. I can sit on my front porch & watch thunderstorms rise up & spit their lightning 100 miles away. I can smell the rain on the breeze long before it arrives and can bask under the double rainbows it leaves in its wake.
New Mexico is home. I can’t imagine moving.