Love the Homecoming
I left a high school friends house last night, pulling out of the same drive I always have, winding through the neighborhood I always have, and thinking about how sweet it still is to leave places I used to be at 24/7. My turn signal flashing reminded me of how it felt like yesterday we were in high school, still driving our same cars, going to the same neighborhoods, worried about high school things. Now we walk different college campuses, hang out in separate homes, and worry about different things. Except when we come home, it’s like we never missed a beat. I drive through the same town, and see the same people who were here when I left it, but the love I have for them never changes.
My aux cord in my car hasn’t been working for a while & I’m too lazy to replace it, so although I used to hate driving in silence, I’ve gotten used to the quietness of driving without sound. And it’s always when I’m driving do my thoughts run wild with what used to be’s as I pass restaurants I lived at in high school, parks, gas stations, and neighborhoods I once occupied. They always bring back good and distinct memories like a movie playing back in my mind. It is good to be home, but I always feel different whenever I come back. Older, sure. Removed, for sure. Nostalgic, of course.
It’s funny how part of my heart now lies in a different city that makes me feel differently whenever I drive through it. But half my heart is still anchored in my hometown. My senior year high school self was convinced I needed to get out of my town and go far far away for college because I was so sick of everything. Thinking about that, I smile, because I think it’s natural to feel that. Now, after just enough time I get excited about getting to go home. When I do go home, driving around makes me miss it even when I’m there, because new roads are paved and new neighborhoods are built on used-to-be cornfields, and my little brother gets a little taller every time I walk through the door. I’m different too. My friends are different, my hair is longer, and my experiences new. Still, sitting in a full restaurant with hometown friends all back together, hugs from their parents you haven’t seen in a while, eating our favorite food doesn’t ever disappoint. Homecoming makes me thankful for things that last despite the spaces that change.
Best,
Meg
