High school was one of those times of my life that I'd never want to repeat. Living through it once was more than enough. College? Completely different story. And yet I enjoy seeing my high school classmates out and about. We did a meet-and-eat earlier this summer, and it was a blast. But back in the day, it was a different story.
I couldn't wait to get out of my hometown. Once I was gone, I tried to distance myself from the people, places, etc. of those first 17 years. Angry? Perhaps. Coming home was never even a consideration. But so it happened. I still kept a distance. I needed that wall, that angry-young-girl facade. I suppose you could say I felt so ashamed of coming home on my shield instead of carrying it. Weird wounded pride.
It has only been in the last few years, as I have become more at ease with myself and my place in the world, have I begun to attempt to make peace with having grown up here, and my HS days. We were all silly and immature, and as I see it, we've all gotten so much better. The distancing came with a price: I'll never be as close to my hometown friends as I am to the ones from college and my adult life. They are the people who really watched me come into my own, and who have been there for me in my very darkest hours. But there's also a joy in knowing people who will not look at you funny when you mention certain people, places, events. If you're from here and from a certain era, "The Fooder" will bring instant recall, as would Mrs. O'Dell or "the 100 Building." It's a good thing.
Sometimes, remembering isn't such a bad thing after all......