Can you go home again?

I've heard the phrase, "You can't go home again," but I never really thought that much of it. Of course, I didn't grow up in my college town, but I did spend four huge years of my life there. Harrisonburg, Virginia was the first place that truly felt my own. I had been back once since moving, but it was only for a night and didn't quite hit me. I recently came back from a long weekend in the 'burg and learned how it actually feels to go back home.

I had a great time visiting, don't get me wrong. I love that town and the people in it, and due to the time of the year, I was fortunately able to see a good amount of friends and colleagues preparing for the new school year. However, I quickly had to come to terms with the fact that life moved on without me. The places where I spent my time kept the ball rolling without my help. Classes at James Madison will still start next week despite the fact that I won't be there with a backpack and a coffee to go. My younger friends and friends remaining there for post-graduate opportunities will still have social lives and will make fun memories that I won't be in. But that's okay. It could be really easy to see the world keep going and to feel invalidated or to have my ego knocked down a peg or two, but that's not how I feel.

I truly loved college, but I'm sure I'll truly love being an adult and crafting my own world. I miss my involvements and the comforts of a place I called home, but there was a time where that place felt foreign before I made it my own. Similarly, I'll make this new time my own. I feel immense joy for my friends still in that town, whether they're studying or working, and I acknowledge that we all experience life differently. The way I view my time in Harrisonburg is not the same as the way anybody else views there time in college, or anywhere else.

I'm at a big crossroads in my life. I have absolutely no idea where I'll end up next, what I'll be doing or who I'll spend my time with. All I know is that I'll inevitably love some aspect of where I end up. One day, it'll be just as hard to leave that next town. And that, in a weird way, makes me happy.

It will continue to be weird when I visit Harrisonburg, just as it felt weird telling a local bartender, "I'm visiting for the weekend but ... I'm from here, well not from here ... but kind of." The weirdness might not go away, at least not for a little while, but I'm going to embrace it. I'll talk to people as I see them, hear what's changed and what's stayed the same — and when I find out that things have gone on just fine without me, I'll smile.

That'll be okay.