I've been thinking a lot about my hometown. The town I grew up in and spent eighteen years in and visited often for ten years after that. My family has moved away from that town so for me to go back and visit would be a real process. It is a far, far away place now.
One reason I have been thinking of it is because the town I am now residing in reminds me of H'town. There are hills and valleys, there is a downtown with shops and restaurants. There is a dome that shines through the trees as the car coasts to the bottom of the tall hill, bringing you into town. Geographically it feels like home here. But I have yet to feel it in my heart. I wonder how long it takes to feel a place in your heart?
It amazes me how quickly the kids adapt to and adopt their new town. If you ask them where they live, they quickly (butcher) say the name. Yet, there are still mornings I wake up and I have no idea where I am. I know, I know. It has been a hell of a trip for the last five years. Especially this last year. And, in fact, it has been a year almost to the day that the nightmare started.
I finally summoned the courage a few weeks ago and gave up my last dose of medication. One year ago I was literally begging for a cure, ready to end it all so I could be done with the pain. And now, I am medicine free, pain free and wandering around a town in the middle of nowhere, with no one knowing me or my history. A miracle? I don't know. I don't even understand what happened. I hate to even think about it. Because really, it's only in remission....I think. I guess I will never know until it happens again. I have a stockpile of the meds ready to go, but I have stopped packing them and taking them wherever I go. I think that is a good step. AND I am finally writing about it. Which I have been afraid to do...you know superstition and all. (So don't read any of this out loud lest the Monster 'Neath the Skin hears you)
It amazes me how quickly the kids adapt to and adopt their new town. If you ask them where they live, they quickly (butcher) say the name. Yet, there are still mornings I wake up and I have no idea where I am. I know, I know. It has been a hell of a trip for the last five years. Especially this last year. And, in fact, it has been a year almost to the day that the nightmare started.
I finally summoned the courage a few weeks ago and gave up my last dose of medication. One year ago I was literally begging for a cure, ready to end it all so I could be done with the pain. And now, I am medicine free, pain free and wandering around a town in the middle of nowhere, with no one knowing me or my history. A miracle? I don't know. I don't even understand what happened. I hate to even think about it. Because really, it's only in remission....I think. I guess I will never know until it happens again. I have a stockpile of the meds ready to go, but I have stopped packing them and taking them wherever I go. I think that is a good step. AND I am finally writing about it. Which I have been afraid to do...you know superstition and all. (So don't read any of this out loud lest the Monster 'Neath the Skin hears you)
And so I drive around this new town, I live this new phase. I think about my hometown and hope that my kids have good memories of this new place. I hope these good memories override any memories from the last year-- no one wants their kids to remember that. This new place doesn't smell of chocolate or have brightly lit stars atop mountains at Christmas (shout out to H'town), but I can make it just as a happy place for my kids...Daddy is not at war and Mommy doesn't need brain surgery...so all is good, right?
