Just A Small Town Girl

I grew up in a small town in Maine. A very small town. As a result, I went to school with many of the same people from preschool through high school, and in one memorable case, all the way through to graduate school.

Imagining my life without these people -- well, it's sort of like imagining myself without a right  arm. I can kind of picture what that would be like, but at the same time, it seems like it would be difficult, if not impossible, to learn how to function properly. Whether I see them regularly (and I do see some of them regularly) or not, I think we remain in each other's consciousness.

We're a tribe, you see.

I didn't realize that this was special, our little community.  I thought it was kind of normal, that everyone got to have a band of people with whom they would learn to navigate the world. I didn't know I was lucky. Sometimes, in fact, I felt like all I wanted to do was escape -- maybe other people felt that way too, I don't know -- and run away to a place where I could be someone else, someone who was unknown and who could have a new history with new people.  Because despite all of the belonging, there were and are times when I have felt outside and separate, both a part of the tribe and an observer of the tribe. When I was younger, I thought it had something to do with my friends. Now I know it's not them at all, that the person who most frequently keeps myself outside is ... me.

As soon as I was able, I fled to college, where I wouldn't know anyone.

A year later, I came back. It became a pattern with me -- go, come back, go, come back. And every time -- every time! --  I am blessed to have people who see me and who know me, and who make room for me to come back when I am ready. They know, you see, that this is just the way I am. I don't have to explain it, and I don't have to justify it. They let me go and they take me back in.

They're family. The town we come from may be small, but the blessing of having these kinds of friends? Huge.