On going home
There is a sadness visiting a place you once called home. Some of it you expect. Seeing what happened to a home you cared for, buildings gone and new, roads changed, unfamiliar faces in places you once frequented.
Some you can never truly anticipate. How different a close friends house is, or how different they are. Sometimes it's just the small things, new catch phrases, different clothing, movies they saw and you didn't. Occasionally however it's something much bigger. A change in how they act around you, new friends, an awkwardness they didn't have before. A weirdness in silence that never was weird before. Something you expect of them that turns out differently.
All these things remind you that you, and they, have moved on. No matter what you do you can't outrun these things. When you think you've found a kinda peace you learn there is no real peace to be had. It's heart breaking. So while you miss them when you leave it's also a relief. When away you can remember things they way you want, pretend they are all the same. That is, after all, what you really want. You secretly hope that this time when you return, those shelves will be gone, your friends will be the same. You can pretend you never left, never did your own form of moving on.
I suppose it's normal to feel upset and almost angry at these changes, just as those you left behind must have felt angry at the change you made in their life.
I doubt you can ever really move on. You keep visiting hoping things will be "normal" again, surely as they hoped you would not leave.
Each year when I come back "home" I feel these things, but this year has been harder than most. I'm sure because there was a two year gap between visits this time. Moving so far away has taught me a lot, even as it hurt in ways I never expected. I know better who really is my friend, although even that can change in as little as a year. Maybe I should say I've learned who was willing to put the effort into keeping me their friend, sense being friends long distance is hard. Some people I'm closer to because of the move.
Perhaps if I had a different caliber of friend I wouldn't feel all of this so keenly. I didn't move thinking they could be replaced, but I think part of me thought I would find people I would, with time, learn to feel as close to. Maybe as you grow older you have a harder and harder time building those relationships. I know my beloved Alaska is less beautiful because I don't have my friends to share it with. With each visit I start to believe I couldn't return even if I wanted to. There are things my eyes have been opened to that I can never close them to again.
Maybe if my small few remaining friends all made a move to somewhere new we could start again, but even as I type that I know it will never happen. Know how unlikely it is that anyone I love would be willing to move.
We are all se tin our ways. No matter what those ways are.
I miss my friends, I know I actually miss them. Their laughter, their jokes, their warmth, their acceptance, but I know I will be glad to go home. So that I can, once again pretend everything is the same.
I suppose I shouldn't write when I'm feeling sad and about to move along, but now that it is written I know it is all true and can't bring myself to erase it.
I love you my friends, or I would never return.
Some you can never truly anticipate. How different a close friends house is, or how different they are. Sometimes it's just the small things, new catch phrases, different clothing, movies they saw and you didn't. Occasionally however it's something much bigger. A change in how they act around you, new friends, an awkwardness they didn't have before. A weirdness in silence that never was weird before. Something you expect of them that turns out differently.
All these things remind you that you, and they, have moved on. No matter what you do you can't outrun these things. When you think you've found a kinda peace you learn there is no real peace to be had. It's heart breaking. So while you miss them when you leave it's also a relief. When away you can remember things they way you want, pretend they are all the same. That is, after all, what you really want. You secretly hope that this time when you return, those shelves will be gone, your friends will be the same. You can pretend you never left, never did your own form of moving on.
I suppose it's normal to feel upset and almost angry at these changes, just as those you left behind must have felt angry at the change you made in their life.
I doubt you can ever really move on. You keep visiting hoping things will be "normal" again, surely as they hoped you would not leave.
Each year when I come back "home" I feel these things, but this year has been harder than most. I'm sure because there was a two year gap between visits this time. Moving so far away has taught me a lot, even as it hurt in ways I never expected. I know better who really is my friend, although even that can change in as little as a year. Maybe I should say I've learned who was willing to put the effort into keeping me their friend, sense being friends long distance is hard. Some people I'm closer to because of the move.
Perhaps if I had a different caliber of friend I wouldn't feel all of this so keenly. I didn't move thinking they could be replaced, but I think part of me thought I would find people I would, with time, learn to feel as close to. Maybe as you grow older you have a harder and harder time building those relationships. I know my beloved Alaska is less beautiful because I don't have my friends to share it with. With each visit I start to believe I couldn't return even if I wanted to. There are things my eyes have been opened to that I can never close them to again.
Maybe if my small few remaining friends all made a move to somewhere new we could start again, but even as I type that I know it will never happen. Know how unlikely it is that anyone I love would be willing to move.
We are all se tin our ways. No matter what those ways are.
I miss my friends, I know I actually miss them. Their laughter, their jokes, their warmth, their acceptance, but I know I will be glad to go home. So that I can, once again pretend everything is the same.
I suppose I shouldn't write when I'm feeling sad and about to move along, but now that it is written I know it is all true and can't bring myself to erase it.
I love you my friends, or I would never return.