A Long and Detailed Metaphor


I love my hometown. 

The good parts, anyway.  

Like how for a few weeks in early spring, the brown hills turn vibrant with color. Absolutely magical.

Or how it sometimes feels like an intimate small town and sometimes a huge, sprawling city. 

Like how my brother is still there, and his presence alone makes it a better place. 

I used to think, "Everyone should stay." Why leave such a nice place? 

But one day I packed my car, brimming with life's treasures, and left. 

It was isolating and terrifying to leave something I loved so much. But I knew leaving was the right choice for me. Good thing, too. I had so many beautiful things waiting for me miles and miles away. 

I used to think, "Everyone should leave." See what's out there. 

But I had a lot of friends who stayed. They found education, careers, love, happiness, and purpose there. I love seeing them planting deep roots where we used to walk. I would never say their life is more or less fulfilled than mine just because they never left. How would I know? 

I really miss it sometimes, that place I grew up. Nostalgia really gets me and  I long for the heat, the comfort, the familiarity. I reflect fondly on the person I was there. I thank my parents for raising me in such a lovely place. I never did have to see all of the darkness lurking downtown. 

I now know completely, "Everyone should do what is best for them." 

The "different strokes," of it all, you know?

People leave and people stay. Some leave and return. I'd never move back. 

But I'll bring my children to visit on holidays.



 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Family Pictures Are A Miracle.

Image
One of the things I hear most often from clients when scheduling family photo sessions is something like: “I need to lose (x amount of weight) first.”  And, boy do I get it.  As much as id love to be your resident body positivity girlie, I too, had a weight goal before getting these pictures done.  But then my one-year-old baby almost drowned on Memorial Day.  Thanks to a man we'd never met before who got to him before our whole world stopped, we got to go home with our family in one piece. A miracle.  I remember savoring every single hair on his head, every look, every sound.  I remember my husband and me enjoying each mundane minute of our family life in the days following.  We scheduled our family pictures that week.  And I  definitely didn’t give a shred of attention to my weight.  This isn’t a cheap shot to shame you for wanting to look your best. You deserve to feel beautiful always.  You deserve the curated, Pinterest-worthy ...
Read more

To All the Boyz

When I was younger  there was a boy he was worthy  and kind one day, "unexpected" God told him not to love me he listened  and so did i now, years later sometimes I wake up wondering if I proved Him right  ______________________________ My brain wasn't fully developed did you know that happens at 25 7 years shy for me 2 for him when he said goodbye the part of my brain that didn't exist yet moved on quietly it didn't scream it didn't drive to his house in the middle of the night it didn't put angry scars on her arms, (for attention, they told me) it didn't get mad at God for the unanswered prayers it just  moved on quietly and she was so attractive for it ______________________________________ When we think of him we smile God and me  we loved him  and he was told to love us  but sometimes love is not acceptance  sometime love  isn't enough I worry when he thinks of us God and me he doesn't smile  not really would we have really lov...
Read more

The Magnetism

He doesn't let me hold him much anymore. He reaches for Daddy. Even when he's hurt. Even in the middle of the night, he'll scream louder if I'm the one that comes in. My older sisters (seasoned mothers) tell me it's normal. Unfair and normal. To see Daddy is special, to see Mommy is expected.  I decided to go off my anti-depressants around the same time I stopped nursing him. What a decision; absolute and willful destitution of dopamine.  It's been since then that the slow ache of the world seems to coincide with the ache for the bond with my baby.  It's like my entire chest feels like a negative charge- repelling everything around me with a pressure that seems magnetic and inevitable in its power.   Lately, I've been sneaking into his room just 5 or 10 minutes before he needs to wake from his nap. I pick his ever-growing body up like he's a newborn and hold him to me. Still sleeping, he lets me. I bury my face in his thin, wispy blonde hair. I hold ...
Read more