"When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she had always been.
But she had wings." -Dean Jackson
You drive back toward town, passing the city limits sign and you feel something settle over you. It's not a satisfying feeling, nor is it particularly unpleasant, it just sort of exists. This is the same weight you feel lift off of your chest whenever you drive away toward your new home and leave all the old memories in the rearview. You coast through town, slowing down as you exit off the highway. Everything comes back to you in a flash as you drive past your best friend's house, your high school, the park where your first boyfriend broke your heart. All of the feelings, high and low, heartache and ecstasy that came with growing up. The same familiar roads, signs and street lights welcome you home like you never left. And even though it has been months and months and you feel as if everything in your life is so drastically different, nothing here has changed. For better or for worse, whenever you return, it will always be the same. Sometimes, when you're stressed and overwhelmed, the idea that home will always be the same is comforting. Other times, it gives you almost an eerie feeling of being locked in a flashback, because it's been so long but that stop sign down the street is still crooked, there's still graffiti on the side of that building and that one cop car still sits behind the grocery store waiting for the teenagers that like to hang out down there.
The people are the same too. For years while you were stuck here you watched your older friends come home for breaks from their colleges and speak with bright eyes about how much they love school, about all their memories and the new people they've met. You nodded politely and smiled and continued to make small talk, because you were happy for them but you didn't understand, because your life was still here. And now, you're on the opposite side of the story. People from back home will never understand the smile that lights up your face when you try to describe the beauty of snow falling silently over giant evergreen trees as you walk across campus at 2 a.m. They don't really care when you talk about how excited you are that you finally bonded with that senior in your sorority that you adore, and they don't understand why it's such a big deal to you that you got to go to your favorite fraternity's winter formal. They congratulate you on passing that really difficult math class, but they still don't understand. They nod politely, smile, and continue to make small talk but you feel a part of yourself deflate. All of the scenery you see every day, the moments and people that make you so happy, these are things people from home will never understand. And it just makes you feel so disconnected, so far away because now you have a whole other life somewhere else. Being home feels like hitting pause on your life, and it makes you feel restless. It's hard to even remember that this was your life for so long, that for four years you walked through the halls of that high school every day, and the majority of your life revolved around that petty high school drama you so love to make fun of now that you're sooo much more mature. You have forgotten about all the people you used to call your friends just because you saw them every day, about the scribbled notes in each other's yearbooks about how you'd always stay in touch and about how much they mean to you. That all fades away, overshadowed by all the new people you've met in your college town and the memories you've made.
Sure, it's good to be home. You missed your family, your bed, your pets and the three or four people you still talk to from back home. But slowly, you start to miss being in the town where your life is now. You find yourself longing to go curl up in the basement of your sorority house and watch old movies, or to walk across campus to watch it snow from the window of your favorite coffee shop. You sit in bed and watch Netflix, wishing you were out with all of your new friends at the local dance hall instead. You missed being home when you were away, but didn't realize how much you would miss your new life once you actually got home.
