People like to say that leaving a place or an idea, distancing yourself from it and then returning to it after a period of time can gain you perspective, maybe illuminate something that you were too close and attached to notice or appreciate before. And hey, let’s not disparage those people; I think that the assessment is usually true. Does it seem like I’m stalling? Beating around the bush? Maybe I am. I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I just came home for the holidays- and I’m not sure what to think about it. Maybe I’ll sort it out by the end of this article.
I just came back to my hometown, back to the quiet streets and breezy cornfields of Sandwich, Illinois for pretty much the first time since I left for college nearly three months ago. Three months doesn’t sound like a terribly long period of time at face value, but three months spent totally submerged in school while meeting new friends in a new town can make it feel more like a year.
And maybe three months feels like such a long time because I’ve never left for that long before. I’ve traveled quite a bit, but I don’t think I had spent more than two weeks or so away from Sandwich since I was 5-years-old.
I’ve never had to come home for the holidays. I was already there. So coming home for the first time after a substantial time away was an interesting exercise. I think that the think I’m supposed to say is that I came away with a greater appreciation for my home that I took for granted before yadda yadda yadda sentimental feelings, holiday spirit or whatever. But, I’m not sure that writing that would be 100 percent honest.
Sure, while coming home was great in that I got to reconnect with my mother, my step-father and all three of my brothers whom I missed a lot and I definitely got hit with nostalgia at certain things that have been staples in my house growing up. While all of that is true, being home also felt a bit more strange, foreign than I anticipated.
I’ve been so busy, so caught up with everything that goes with life that I hadn’t had time to be bored. I sat in my living room on Thanksgiving night I was struck as to how weird being back at home in the country felt. I was already getting bored. And maybe that’s the point I’m coming to her. I’ve always been a bit bored with my hometown as much as I enjoy its peaceful ambience. I’ve always fascinated about leaving- and I did.
I don’t resent any part of growing up in a small country town, but I think I’m starting to come to terms with how much I needed to leave. Not the people, I want to stress just how much I love spending time with my family. It’s just the hometown of it all that that feels off.
Next month is Christmas. I’ll be back in my hometown again for two weeks, but I fear that any longer would feel like regression. Perhaps that is just enough time to be home for the holidays.
