So there I was, in my hometown, pulling into an empty parking spot, with lines barely visible, in an empty parking lot. The conformist in me would never park all willy-nilly (I'm not Helen Keller); even if I was 99.9% sure that the parking lot wasn't going to explode with cars at 8:30 in the evening on a Wednesday. I was going to walk. Simple. No cell phone, no music. I have always preferred doing my exercise without music. It helps me to notice things. Things like the sound of my feet, the wind through the trees, the approach of a car. My thoughts seemingly narrating the walking tour of my childhood. Wondering of all the changes time managed to make while I've been gone. Noticing homes I'd never noticed before. Seeing homes my classmates grew up in and the now, vacant lot, where my middle school best friend used to live, until she moved away with her family to California. I remember the devastation of her departure. Feeling so sad to lose my very own friend. There has never been a time that I've been by here that I didn't think of her. I found her on Facebook a few years ago and she was kind enough to accept my request. Our social media reunion was like a deflated balloon, there was nothing left of who we knew each other to be.
I pass by the mothers of 2 of my school mates, as they share each other's company on a perfect evening to be outdoors. It was as if time had stopped, and it could've easily been one of the many other times I had passed one or both of them walking along our city streets, when I was in high school. I see the familiar furrow of the brow as one tries to place a name with my face. I hear the silence of their conversation as our steps take us farther and farther apart. Did they ask each other if they knew who I was? Maybe they knew it was an "Albertson" girl. Maybe, like me, they let a handful of memories we might have shared, breeze through their mind and briefly noted that we have all lived a lifetime since the last time we spoke, and that the world just isn't the same anymore.
My tour of town takes me up into the new development of homes where a cornfield used to stand. I say new, but I believe it has been around 10 years or more. These homes could be like any across the US. I don't say that to sound rude. It just seems that, for whatever reason, these homes wouldn't be viewed from the street, 50 years from now, as anything special. The homes in town that have graced this city for a handful of decades are just different. The air around the old homes seems full of history and mystery. The new homes built for young couples, young families, older professionals staking claim to their piece of Loogootee land, don't inspire awe. I have no doubt that they are gorgeous inside. They do not however, have character like old historical homes have and it makes me wonder if that was the same thought others had when those historical homes were new. I have mixed emotions as the new street intersects with the old. It seems to me that I don't belong on either.
The High School has had an addition built on, of which I've never seen the inside of. Looking at the high school, my high school, I imagine all the stories it can tell. Thinking of the thousands of kids who walked through those halls and out into the world, made me come to terms with the startling fact that the Loogootee High School experience has changed little over the last 100 years.
I cross the highway for a 3rd time, never having to stop for traffic. In the slow, winding thoughts that have swam through my mind, I ask myself what I am doing here. I see vague visions in my mind's eye of a possible home, life and future living out my life here. My nephew and niece are there, my mom, my sisters. It doesn't stay long, like a sandstorm, the images disintegrate. There are no emotions tied to the images, and my futuristic photo journey leaps into the scenes of many various places. I am there, in the images this time, smiling, with children around me, with life and abundance filling my heart as I see the work of God in me. I now consider myself called to do more, to be more than I have ever done before. The revelation settles in, comfortable and obvious.
I love it here, in my hometown. It is beautiful and fairly uncomplicated. I am lucky. There will always be a place called home for me. On these streets, I am always welcome. My feet will talk this path again, as they have uncountable times before.
No, I don't listen to music when I walk. I like to notice when God is telling me something.
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