“God, I was worried we’d run into someone I know. That would have sucked.” said one of my best friends as we stopped to pick up munchies and soda for the trip home yesterday.
This was foreign to me. We had visited her hometown, a working trip to help her parents make sure they were set in case of flooding or utility outage. I don’t have many friends from high school I keep in touch with. I wasn’t a popular girl by any means, that’s what happens when you’re overweight, in band, in choir, in orchestra, and involved with theater. Any one of these things can put you on the “uncool” list, combine them and you’re hanging out in the land of misfit toys.
At the same time, I’m looking forward to going to our hometown festival later this month. I had planned to visit the beer tent for the first time and see Super Tuesday, an amazingly talented local band that I briefly enjoyed a few weeks ago. After talking to my brother, I found out their playing on “parents’ night” and “reunion night” (both unofficial titles) is the night before. I actually decided that I’m going to try to go for part of both nights.
I know that the jerks I went to high school may have grown up. I don’t hold enough animosity to not want to see them. And hey, at least I can see who had high hopes that fell short and maybe feel good about myself. (Yes, it’s immature, but who doesn’t look at the now obese former cheerleader and giggle???)
I drive through my hometown often, frequent businesses there. I enjoy it, I’m proud to call it home. Someday, I truly hope to move back there so my daughter can go to the same school I once went to. To dread going home and pray you don’t see anyone you know is just weird to me!
I’d be interested to see how others feel about their childhood and their hometowns.