The Strange Return Home.

Little Gretta hiding from the summer heat. Photo by me:)

Well, it is officially the week of Thanksgiving, or rather the day before Thanksgiving. This is the first time in my life where I have not or will not be home for all the festivities leading up to turkey day and Christmas, and that’s really really strange. Even though I have been longing to come home for three months, being home is, in a word, unfamiliar. Even though everything is almost exactly the same, and I still know the roads like the back of my hand, I feel like a stranger in my own town.

If you have ever gone to college, moved for a job, or chosen to travel, and then after a while returned to where you’re from to visit, then you may know how I feel. As I was in bed about to fall asleep in my own room for the first time since August 27th, just a few days ago, I looked around and was consumed by so many memories and belongings that I had somehow forgotten about. I felt like someone with amnesia trying to remember their old life again. All my pictures on the wall, my beloved books and poems, my record player and the stacks of magazines waiting to be cut up, and the closet holding clothes I chose not to take with me. I felt like I didn’t belong there anymore. The room was being haunted with the ghost of my old self.

But it was also the most comforted I have felt in months. Lying in the smell of my familiar pillows and blankets, the natural noises of our pets, and hushed voices. I could hear the trees conversing outside, and the occasional car in the distance. I liked looking outside and seeing green. So much green. More then I have seen in months. And strangely the thing I missed the most was the eternal dampness. Or as I would say to my friends back at school… the smell of the rain. I got to get a donut from my favorite spot, I got to get my nails done, and visit friends from high school. I got to be home, not just in the actual house, but the places, the smells, the people and the sounds.

And although I love it here and I am growing to love my new home as well, I am beginning to notice that two different versions of myself exist in the world. The new Olyvia lives and remains in New York at school, and the familiar child like Olyvia, she lives in a small town in Washington that gets too much rain, and has lots of old people. My biggest take away from this realization is learning to accept and love both of those young women. To try to treat them both with as much respect and care as I can. To engage with the New York Olyvia when she’s in Poulsbo and vice versa. To balance the act.

So, the next time you return to home, wherever that may be, remember to check in with all your versions. It’s ok to be emotional about being reintroduced to one of them, or even to the place. Because, while you were gone, you grew, you evolved, and you changed. And I promise you this, the old versions of you cannot wait to meet the new ones, and neither can I. Happiest of Thanksgivings, I hope it is all that you wanted and more.

-Miss O (in every form)