Last weekend I went to my hometown for my 30th High School Reunion. The place where I grew up is on the beach and in the woods and surrounded by apple orchards and artichoke fields. The smell of ocean and fog are buried deep in me. That place and the people I knew there are, as my friend Shannon put it, “part of my DNA.”
The night of the party had a dreamlike quality to it. People that seem to live only in my mind were standing in front of me. Friends looked like their younger selves by way of their parents. Memories came rushing of happy times and tragedies, real and imagined. There was intrigue and love lost and love found and love lost again. I felt that sting from tears while laughing and crying and a deep feeling of overwhelm. I was surprised that it was so fun and so difficult at once. It was a lot.
I have another home somewhere else now. I have my own family. And the hometown faraway place will always be home and these people I see so rarely anymore will always be family. It’s just like that.
