What a RICH weekend. It was so full of wonderful things!
I've told you before that I grew up in a
small town in Indiana and
lost someone special to me as a teenager. My parents moved from my childhood home to Southern Indiana when I graduated college. My younger brother went with them. I had rarely returned to my hometown, but now my brother is back living there. This past weekend we returned just in time for a real, Midwestern fall.
My brother invited the Mr. and me to come to an outdoor party/concert/camp-out. We are choc-full-a activities from here until November, but this was the first invitation my brother extended so we didn't want to miss the opportunity. We first had lunch with my Grammy a few towns over, laughed at the stupidest things and then headed to Small Town, Indiana.
Does anyone else ever return to their hometown and it almost feels dreamlike? I feel that way. I recognize things and it seems real, but it's all totally different. Like I'm trying to remember my childhood after a head trauma.
My amnesia faded in and out as we drove through the heart of town. "The post office hasn't changed." "There used to be a coffee shop there." I'd remembered turns right as we were upon them. Thankfully, the Mr. had a good reaction time and was patient with my sporadic, "turn left NOW" commands.
We turned into my brother's drive knowing that the house he lives in was once inhabited by my high school boyfriend's parents. After the accident. My boyfriend never lived there, but I did stay the night there once to house sit and watch their dogs. It was surreal to walk back into the house with different furniture, different dogs.
My brother then took us to the shop where he works as a landscaper. I'd never seen where he works and the building was pretty new. It was so well put together and clean - especially for a group of guys who get dirty for a living! I'm so proud of him!
As we were leaving I noticed two crosses in the ditch and sputtered out half of a question before stopping myself. I hadn't recognized the intersection because the landscaping office was new to the corner. I also hadn't been back to the site of the accident in probably 8 years. One cross was original and the other was new and decorated with a pen and ever increasing signatures, but both to the same end.
We talked about the striking coincidence of it all without lumps in our throats. My brother is living and working where tough memories were stale and visceral, like fish fry garbage. He said he had unsettling dreams about it, but that they have stopped now. I hope he's been able to rewrite those areas with his own happy life. That the wood and paint in both places are just architecture.
The Mr. and I had so much fun this past weekend. It was our first time camping together in a tent. We listened to music by a
high school friend. We had pulled pork around a campfire, breakfast links in a bay window, and pizza in a
pub (Maddy, it was my first time at the Barbie hotel!). We hugged our host and hostess, thanking them for the 10th time. We hugged my brother a little tighter and longer than our welcome hug.
A while ago, the Mr. and I helped a coworker of my brother's who was given a raw deal. That coworker is doing a lot better now. We got to meet his whole family at this camp-out - in-laws, children, the works! They were all so kind and appreciative. Everyone was. Most of them are self-proclaimed red-necks who would swear in front of Mother Teresa and pants the Pope, but my brother has a good group of people around him and I'm thankful he's got "family" close.
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