Sam Hunt’s performance of “Break Up in a Small Town” hits me hard, not as a heartbroken ex-lover, but as a college student. I didn't break off a relationship with one specific person when I left my hometown for college, but I did leave a community, and along with it, the only life I ever knew. In the end, that divide isn’t much different from getting over a romantic relationship. Every time I come home I’m reminded of the life I once had with other people. Every corner holds a memory, a reminder of who I once was, but no longer am.

Attending my brother's school events feels familiar and alien all at once. I feel like a spectator in a place that I once claimed my own. I can’t drive down the road without seeing the place I spent many childhood birthdays at demolished. Everywhere I go, it seems like new shops and restaurants have magically appeared since my last visit. I wonder if one day I will come back lost, unable to recognize any piece of the place I left.

I can’t walk outside of my old home without seeing the faces I once passed in high school hallways. Because of social media, I know that these people have moved on to new stages in their lives, but I still see them as the same kids that stomped their feet on the bleachers during pep rallies and sang songs together on field trips. I wonder if I’m still supposed to say hi when we cross paths, even if I don’t really know who they are anymore. I wonder if they smile when they hear that I’m at a good place in my life, just like I do when I read their statuses or see their pictures.

I can’t go to a family gathering and hide my shocked expression at seeing another younger relative fully grown. Because of phone calls with my mother, I know that so and so’s graduation is coming up and so and so will be starting high school come fall. However, these updates do not compare to seeing my little brother across the table at Thanksgiving, practically a man. A reminder that my baby cousin will start the third grade soon is not the same as seeing a young, energetic child replace the curious toddler that smiles in a photo on my apartment wall. I wonder if I seem older to them when we meet again.

I can’t talk to my parents without realizing our relationship has changed. I still look to them for guidance and support, but at times I now see them doing the same with me. I don’t think I will ever stop looking up to them, but I wonder if one day our different lifestyles will change our relationship completely.

I want to know when my hometown will stop feeling like unwanted nostalgia and reality will finally hit that this part of my life is over. That I’m never going to walk into a classroom again and see the people I grew up with sitting there. That this person is getting married, or that that person is now a parent. That the kids that were freshman when I was a senior now rule my former high school. That the pictures I still have capture a moment that has passed, and people that have grown.

In reality, you don’t really have to leave your hometown for it to change. I’m sure the places I hung out with friends were not there when my parents were teenagers. The same people I ate lunch with in school wouldn’t see each other every day if I had stayed. My family will continue to grow whether I am there to witness it or not, and my relationship with my parents will change with time, not location. Leaving a place behind really is like leaving a relationship. Looking back, you'll want to romanticize what you once had. In the end however, you have to appreciate what it was, accept what it is now, and move on.