Returning Home

Nos·tal·gia

/näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/

(noun)

noun: nostalgia; plural noun: nostalgias

1. a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.
   “I was overcome with acute nostalgia for my days in college”

Coming back home after living on my own for three years is a bizarre mix of sentimental feelings and pride. Like the fact that I have moved on from such a place makes me feel proud of my adulthood abilities and my ambition, yet there’s this sense of melancholy in the background of my emotions, as this movement away from home is an acceptance of never being able to return to the way things used to be.

This dichotomy of my emotions were even more relevant when I walked into the high school I graduated from. When I entered my old high school so many familiar feelings came rushing back. I knew the ins and outs of all the hallways and classrooms. I could recall which classrooms had the better desks, cell service and air conditioning and which ones didn’t. The now principal of this school, was my English teacher for two years, and her support for my writing and passion for literature is what made me think “yeah, I want to study this after I graduate”. My old English teacher was at the front reception when I entered the school, she was mid conversation but once she recognized it was me I could see her eyes light up. We talked briefly, she had a series of meetings to rush to and I wanted to surprise my mom. So we traded cards said our farewells and agreed to meet for coffee the next time I was in town. It felt bizzare to be an adult capable of such relationships with a person I looked up to so much, yet there I was. While this teacher and I never spent a large amount of time together outside of class, her influence on me and my intellectual development is something I will never be able to thank her enough for. She was for high school aged me, the mentor I needed.

After leaving the high school I went off to waltz back into my old home. While parking my car I knew the front door would be locked—that’s just how it always was. So instead I went around to the back door and just like I remembered it to be it was unlocked. But no one except my little brother, who was not surprised, was home. I gathered the flowers I had bought for my mom and placed them into a vase before deciding to leave once more just to explore. I wanted to see how this town I once knew inside and out, had now changed. For me everything felt all at once different and the same. Memories I hadn’t thought about came flooding back. People’s faces I once recognized now were like strangers, I felt like a tourist in my own town—exploring the different destinations that connected me to my not so distant past. Before I realized it about an hour had passed by while I was lost in my memories. I decided then to once again return home. I walked up the steps of my former home thinking to myself how bizarre it felt to feel so familiar and at home with a place but also distant. Like I knew all the different ways to sneak in and out of the house without getting caught, and the fact that the back door is never locked, but at the same time I don’t know where the cutlery is put away or how certain doors need to be wiggled to open properly. The memories of being present here still existed, yet everything felt like it had changed.

My mom was surprised to see me, and we talked, had dinner with her now husband, and eventually took a truck ride with the dogs to get frozen yogurt. We talked about the people we knew and how most of them are now married, engaged, parents, or soon to be parents. We talked about getting out into the world more and having new experiences. But most of all we just talked about the present and the future. The past in this short period did not dominate our conversation the way it took control of my thoughts, and that was okay. Returning home and experiencing this nostalgic feeling of recognition and unfamiliarity makes me appreciate the life I have grown from. It also makes me feel that the life I am growing into and striving for is within arms reach if I just try to hold dear those who have brought me this far.