The (travel) Hangover.

Visiting the town I grew up in is always a little strange.

For one, the place always looks EXACTLY the same to me - even though I know there have to be changes... somewhere. It takes me a few days, typically, after a visit to East Texas to recuperate. It's not that I don't like being there, it's that it's emotionally draining - especially when my husband doesn't go with me.

The truth is: I have a lot that I left there that I don't have to face or think about. Until I'm there. Alone.

I went to the track (the high school track... well, the high school, middle school and elementary track... because the school I went to was that small) on Saturday to run a bit - I don't think I had been there since I graduated. And since I spent my senior year of high school avoiding the place altogether, it had probably been longer than that. I'm sure I'm not the only person who gets an eerie feeling being back there: for going to such a teeny school, I lost a lot of friends (in a school of this particular size, your friends with almost everyone... or you at least know everyone and pass them on a daily basis). When I say "lost friends", what I mean is: we all attended many funerals. We all = the people who had to deal with the same thing.

So, while running on the track, thoughts of these people.... these friends seemed to follow closely.

I know nostalgia can be an ugly thing... it's not that I think I'm the only person who left heartbreak, failed relationships (and friendships), my previous self, and headstones that I can't ever go look at - it's that I really don't think about any of this... (on purpose) - it hit me a little hard this time. I rarely go out of town without the husband... so this type of travel hangover isn't usually so bad. I think I'm just now over it this afternoon... I've been back since early Sunday.

I'm used to driving with my parents' house in my rear view and tears in my eyes... it still hurts, but I prepare myself for it. I wasn't prepared this time for the rest of it.

A certain guilt comes with living away from my family. We're a close family - so seeing them once a month (most of the time... sometimes more, sometimes less) is difficult. I see my brother even less than that... which I hate. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, and I absolutely love Little Rock (believe it or not!), but it's never going to be easy to be away from them. I am always having to remind myself that they're not THAT far away... too far to have lunch with any given day... too far to go to my niece's dance recital at a moments notice... but not too far for a weekend visit.

Here's the thing: I don't see myself living there. Maybe, big fat maybe, back in DFW someday... but..I don't know.

I get panicky when I think about having kids and being away from all of them... but I have to remember: five years ago I had no idea I would be here... and I don't exactly know where I'll be five years from now. It's the comfort I have when this sort of panic comes up. I've never taken such comfort in the unknown.

I guess it's been kind of an exhausting three days - trying to digest the emotions... but I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

PS - this is not to say that my visit with my family and friends while I was in town wasn't great - because it was. I loved every second of spending time with them. Disclaimer complete.