High School Graduation

I blame my parents. Then again, who doesn't? I'm confident that if I were to sit in therapy every week eventually the therapist would come to the same conclusion. I repeat, who doesn't blame their parents? When you truly ponder 'Nature versus Nurture,' it's a little complicated blaming your DNA.

My parents were married young. We moved a lot. Or, at least as a kid it seemed like a lot. I know when compared to army brats, it just doesn't compare. I think part of the reason we moved a lot is because my mother had been an army brat. The other reason was my father. Now, I have the same syndrome. Let me further explain...

Note: (Unfortunately I've learned these are most definitely necessary) This posting is not to offend anyone. This posting is my independent thoughts, opinions and emotions. Remember what I first said, " I blame my parents."

My father grew up in Small Town America, WI. This community is a gathering of families, roots, dreams and hard times. Many leave, many stay and over time some will return or leave again. Small Town America nurtures the idea of bigger and better things while growing it's vines around your heart strings.

Okay, maybe this is too metaphorical. Let's jump back into my story...

We moved a lot. It was all within a few hundred miles of my father's hometown. Eventually we settled in the community my father was born was in and lived until around the 2nd Grade. We were there for 5 years. That was the longest I lived in one place. When we left, which you should figured was happening next, I thought I'd never recover. It didn't help that it was the middle of 7th Grade. Does anyone else agree that Middle School is the absolute worst?

Guess where we moved. If you remember my Small Town America metaphors, you should be able to make a good guess...my father's hometown - the one he moved to in 2nd Grade and graduated high school. He lived there long enough to feel connected (the vines), yet he had seen the world outside. Yes, it was only a few formidable years, but don't forget our original argument for nature not nurture. I believe he wanted to see more. I believe something was just different in him than those who had grown up there their whole lives.

My high school graduation. I cried. I sobbed. I couldn't control the emotion bursting from me. I think deep down inside I knew that was the passing of an era for me. I was leaving and perhaps never coming back. And, in a sense I never have. I've visited family and friends there, but no one, nothing really held too tight. I've been okay with that. I considered it a past chapter, and I've been moving on. I moved right through college, through post-college employment and living and now onto grad school and new city and state. But change and it's pleasantness is rearing a more ugly head.

Wow, this is becoming a long post.

So, here we are nine years later, and I'm going back. I wouldn't think this trip is any different, but it is. I joined Facebook. Not only am I 'reconnecting' with people, but I've posted my semi-current picture on it. The long brown hair isn't quite as misleading as it had been for the previous few years. I've also exposed myself to the many posts of this person going home for Small Town Fest and that person and the next person and what seems like a million more.

High school graduation...mine was wrong. I'm going back. I'll be facing a whole lot of my past in one fell swoop. And, my urge, my father's urge, to leave is irrelevant. I wonder then...what was I crying so hard about?