Day 27: Love/hate
As a kid, I couldn’t wait to leave. I never even considered going to college in Nebraska. I knew I wanted my world to be bigger. So I left.
I was gone for a long time. I came home for holidays to see my mom and dad, but I was perfectly content to stay at their house and hang out with them. I never felt the need to call up old classmates or see people.
When I was gone, I missed them. I never missed the town. I don’t like the town much, and I have my reasons for feeling like this. My parents are good people. The best people. Wonderful, generous, loving people. Some people don’t get that, and that’s on them.
Now that I live closer, I get home more often. I’ve spent more time in that tiny little town in the last 18 months than I did the 10 years prior to the move. I don’t like being there. It doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t fit there. I might not use the word hate, but someday when my parents move to the mountains, I’ll never go back. And that will be perfectly fine with me.
This is the road to my parents’ house. You can get there through town, but I take the back road. Driving on gravel reminds of home. I don’t like the town, but I love the place. The wide openness of it, the quiet, the smell of the country.
Home is where these people are. Period.