It’s been nearly a week since I got back from my trip, and I went straight back to my proverbial routine without really thinking through everything that happened.
I left with few expectations mostly because I had very little to go on, only meeting some of my fiancee’s family when they took trips south and not having seen my own in the northeast since my cousin got married a few years ago.
Naturally, it was a great time and it was great to meet everyone in a way that isn’t frozen and removed from context.
My fiancee and I needed paperwork from the respective churches where we grew up. We were attending a weddin in her family, so she took a half hour or so to show me where their house was and showed me what little had changed. Since the wedding we had left to attend was actually in her church, her paperwork was easy, and since the town I grew up in was only slightly out of the way, we went through on the way home.
The last time I visited was a bit of a shock of sorts, it had been ten years or so since at that time and since it’d been five on this instance I braced myself a little. I showed my fiancee where the old church used to be, explained that it outgrew itself and moved to a comparably gigantic location, and went to the house where we lived when I was little. I knew the trees I remember wouldn’t be there, but I was pleasantly surprised that the house is well cared-for and in good shape. It was good to see it, but I didn’t want to stay long, didn’t photograph it, and just moved along.
The woods changed more than the houses. The roads where we used to drive have trees all the way up to the shoulder of the road, closer than even some of the trees are allowed to grow around here; it frightened my fiancee a bit to be that close as we rode by, despite that I wasn’t even near speeding.
Then I thought to myself, that from 1981 to 1985 or so, my fiancee and I lived only about 130 miles apart, so tiny relative to the hundreds and thousands we’d travel before we even met.
See you next time.