There is a lot of freedom in writing about things when they are not exactly fresh to you. Our minds influence our memories in that our current feelings change the way we remember previous happenings. But the beauty in this is that you can craft a much better story with a plot line running throughout the memories because you already know what is going to happen and where the action is going to turn. This is the nice thing about writing in larger chunks instead of portioning it down each night and reflecting on my day. Since I have been up north and with the family, I felt no need to blog. But now, I am aching to be back there. And so... I will tell you the story of my adventure to my hometown. And in doing so, I will tinge the memories with a bit of happy sad feelings. But I don't care. Because I want to put down in print what I did since I last wrote, and we can share in my happy sad missing of home.
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The drive to my hometown took longer than usual. Not as long as the snowstorm conditions that seemed to occur every Thanksgiving return trip in my college years, but longer than when the driver goes 3 miles above the speed limit the whole way. I am content to do this drive the slower way. Which I am certain is the safest and least prone to being ticketed for anything. Anyhow, the drive typically ends up around the three hour mark, but this specific trip ended up near four hours. I think this could be due in part to a stop in a town that Kelsey and I had never been to. We needed supper, and we needed supplies. So naturally we got lost on our way to Taco Bell, drove a large loop to get back toward the business area of town, and ended up not at Taco Bell at all. After eating in a parking lot, we popped into the store and hustled around aisles looking for the items on our list. And bought hats that were not on our list. Because when one is going on vacation, of course one needs a sun hat to wear during the hours you are going to be outside reading a modern classic and suntanning. All of this thought while saying aloud, "I'm not really a hat person, but..." Into the shopping basket they went. Or rather, our arms. Kelsey and I have a habit of always looking at shopping carts or baskets and deciding not to bring them with us. Of course, whenever we do this, we always end up needing them. It is a pattern of our lives.
New hats on our heads, we headed back out on the road. We still had hours to go, and it had taken us nearly an hour to bop around the town. This, in retrospect, is one of my favourite parts of the trip. And really, it's one of my favourite parts of our friendship. Kelsey is the kind of person who isn't opposed to urging something that should be mundane toward the magical adventure. We revel in our commonplace shenanigans. Everyday is full of wonderful joys.
Once we made it to my tiny homeplace, we were ready for rest. Our fourth of July festivities were small. My family wandered in and out; to and from work, Independence day parties, parades, etc. Kelsey and I mostly showed our patriotism in our clothing. I wouldn't say that I am terribly patriotic, but I do enjoy Americana colors and patterns. Celebration mainly centered in relaxing, eating the traditional barbecued chicken from the bookstore, and quite a bit of guilty pleasure watching of The Vampire Diaries. What's more American than taking time off from work, eating, and just hanging out?
Restfulness ended abruptly, and at five in the morning, I was on my way back to the city with my parents. It was a down and back trip in one day so that I could teach at church. A much more rushed trip than our leisurely once of two days previous. A necessary rushed trip because soon after we returned upstate, my friends starting pouring into the house for a birthday celebration for me. Mom and Dad's ice cream machine went so hard, it literally broke. We played a giant game of Apples to Apples which I nearly won... this never happens, so it must be recorded.
The 6th of July dawned, and I turned twenty five. A real adult, maybe sort of. One of my former nursing home residents assures me that someday you truly feel like an adult. Maybe around seventy. Because by then you can feel it in your bones just how old you are. But this is the most adult I have felt to this point. In some ways, this was a hard birthday for me to have; I kept remembering how different my life was a year ago, and it was hard not to consider it much better. My physical state had not deteriorated so much in July 2014. Unbeknownst to 24 year old Britany, I was on the brink of a physical breakdown. But it hadn't happened yet, and I thought I was doing really well.
Anyhow, this birthday was full of good things, but it was also full of pain. I could barely sit straight up, but this did not stop a lovely trip to Lewiston Lodge for lunch with Kelsey and Courtney. Other antics of the day mainly centered around more Vampire Diaries, but in the evening we had nachos for supper while we introduced Kelsey to Star Wars. Following our viewing, we consumed as much pie as we could stuff ourselves full of, and my lovelies gave me sweet presents. Being together is such a gift as well. We played Masterpiece (the art auction game). My character was Roxy "Big D" Warrenson, and Kelsey was Bitzy something or tother. Such a time. But it closed out the birthday well as the family came together around something that I love.
The rest of my week is a jumble of memory. I know that if I add up the hours, I spent a couple of days worth of it in bed, hours at Camp working to prepare disability camp, and hours at the nursing home with Grandma and precious other residents. A breakfast with Mom at home. A breakfast out with Dad. One evening was spent with Melissa at Kyle & Anna's house meeting their baby Naomi, eating grilled chicken, salad, and fresh blueberries under the trees outside and then retreating inside to talk until it was nearly dark. One morning was spent with Bridgette and her three little ones playing and hearing about their lives; spending quality time together to last until the next visit. One afternoon was spent with Courtney; life talks and planning sitting huddled together on her bed, working to clean together, Doctor Who episodes, and a photoshoot. One evening was spent with family friends visiting... pizza, games with their son, Dirk, and Cody. Much of the week was spent in pain. I know this as fact, but I do not remember the pain now. All that's left are the happy things I did with my time. The reality of the depth of hurt has faded.
My last morning I woke nauseous with a migraine. I was supposed to drive alone to the city. It was imperative. I thought perhaps that breakfast would improve the situation, but I hadn't even made it back to my bed after retrieving cereal before I had to run to the bathroom, dry heaving. I threw up twice. These are some of my least favourite kinds of migraine. Second to the kind of migraines where I can only sit straight up. Those are the kind that make you wish you never existed. But somehow after two rounds of medicine, sleep, fervent prayer, and a lot of determination, I packed my car, said my goodbyes, and headed back home. The drive was uneventful. It felt as though it went in slow motion. That was just yesterday... it's so surreal to me. It seems much further away. The story of today will have to be saved for another day.
For now, let's just say that it is a strange feeling when you commute from a place that has always been home to the place that is now home. Two kinds of home that you are attached to in different ways. I love each place, and I love being in each place. I am myself in both places. But maybe different versions of myself? When I am in my hometown, I feel most free... and there I feel most emotional. When I am in my new town, I feel most grown up and most confident. Strong in both situations. You are strong when you let down your guard and show your feelings, and you are strong when you do what needs to be done. Two sides of the same person.
