It seems like the first day after Family Reunion is a day where everything seems surreal.
Every year, it’s held in the town I was born and raised in. Every year it seems the group shrinks and the drama gets larger.
I have no idea when the tradition began, but for as long as I can remember, it’s been going on and it’s been a three day affair.
The whole surreal thing just started in the last five or six years – however long Tucker and I have been married – when we moved to Florida and away from my family.
I got away from them and the life I had known. I got away from the town in which I had always resided. I just away from it all.
I wasn’t running away…I was growing. We were making our own lives. We were making our own family. Does that make sense?
At any rate, when we went back this weekend, I went to see this horse my father got me [the horse’s name is Ned] and I had the local radio station blaring since I was by myself and the music was stuck in 2002. Just about all of it.
In 2002, when I first met Tucker and was still in college, all of these songs were playing. I knew all of the words. I danced to all of them at frat parties. I sang the words loud and proud at stoplights with the windows down and the music turned up to a level that would annoy me now if I pulled up next to myself.
The point is my hometown is like a time machine. Every time I go back there, I’m transported to who I was back in 2002. I didn’t really like that person very much. Sure I was thinner but I was a heck of a lot less happy. I was a heck of a lot less secure in who I was.
Every time I go back, I feel just like that girl I used to be and I don’t like it at all.
Maybe that’s a good portion of why I seem to have a chip on my shoulder when I go back there.
You know that saying, “You can never go home again.”? I’ve been there. I’ve lived that I and I know it’s true.
We might have had a good time and we might have had some amazing conversations but we’re so glad to be home. [I can only speak for Cara, Ollie, Sophie – who has slept all day – and myself]
Our apartment may not be as nice as the house my uncle was selling – where we stayed for the weekend – and we’re back to the realities of life instead of that odd suspended reality that seems to occur while on vacation or while away from home.
Makes me realize that while home is nowhere near perfect, it’s ours and home is a wonderful place to be.