is it irony or jesus? so often i wonder. this weeks random writers topic is to write about something we miss from our childhood. my post goes live day after tomorrow. right now i’m on a flight from my childhood home, so the question feels especially poignant and relevant at this very moment.
i miss the familiarity. the warm smiles and hugs from those people who knew me as a small child. the grown ups who watched me flourish on the tennis courts and flail between the ropes of the high school pool. those who recognized my strengths and weaknesses before I even knew they existed.
i miss the friendships that are born solely out of proximity and shared history rather than common interests, likes and dislikes. those bonds of history that tie my hometown friends and i together are special. we often talk about how much we genuinely like each other. by in large, most of us WANT to attend our reunions and look forward to them. we make an effort to get together over the holidays and to keep up with one another throughout the year.
i miss the way things were, for my happy family in my childhood home. before all hell broke lose and splattered us across different states, with one ultimately landing in abroad. we are now two families, and disfunctional to say the least, with only one of us calling this sleepy little town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, home.
i miss the rhododendrons and the hemlocks. i miss the smell of the evergreen forests as the dew evaporated in the morning sun. i miss friday night football games, sundrop and cheerwine, weekend camping trips, lake lure, college football saturdays, bojangles chicken biscuits, real chopped barbque and good sweet tea.
i miss the inherent understanding of the community and it’s driving forces. i am however, thankful that i can return whenever i want, and that so many of my hometown friendships have stood the tests of times and distance. i’m profoundly grateful that my parents chose a place to raise me that would welcome me home with such open arms each and every infrequent time i cross over the tarheel state line.
despite those things my heart sometimes longs for, i can’t say that I miss having not having my own identity, and with a heart fat for a place the shaped and molded me, i am grateful to return to the place I have created my own life. but most of all, as i reminisce on “home” and my childhood, i am oh.so.very.grateful that i don’t have to rake the leaves.