Coming Home

I have been in a state of constant… amazement is the only word I can think of, when it comes to this whole Facebook thing. I’m talking about the finding and talking and refriending of all these people I knew as a kid. The whole concept just continually makes me catch my breath.

I am just astounded at the whole thing. There have been a number of folks that have posted class pictures from elementary school and seeing these kids in kindergarten and upwards is truly a treat. I didn’t move to Oak Park until I was 11 and I do not have contact with anyone from my early years.

The thing that really blows my mind is seeing a picture of someone that I’ve reacquainted myself with and right next to them, in the same class picture while they were maybe six or seven years old, is someone else that I’m friends with again too.

I feel a bit of jealousy when seeing those kinds of photos. I’m jealous because these people have not only grown up together but some have stayed in contact for their entire lives. I have one friend that’s been in a few posts that I have stayed in touch with and I know he and I both know how much we appreciate that. Even that relationship didn’t start until I was 12. Don’t think I’m downplaying that friendship at all. I’m very proud to call him my best friend.

The thing is, most of these people I’m talking about have stayed in the same area that they grew up in and stayed in a circle of friends that they’ve known throughout their entire lives. There must be quite a comfort in that. I’m sure some have doubts about whether or not they should have moved away or if they had and moved back, if that was the right move or not. The thing is, even if they had moved away and returned they went right back into that circle of friends they had known for as long as they could remember. I’m in the process of pushing my way back into that circle too.

Something that never leaves my thoughts during this coming home experience are the odds of it happening at all. I moved to California in 1980 and didn’t return until July 2007. During that time I made friends, got married, had kids and got divorced. No different than most people. The friends I made out west are friends I enjoyed having. There was only one that I’ve stayed in contact with over the years.

During those years away I thought of my youth, again, like most have. I would have a name pop into my head and wonder the proverbial, “whatever happened to” thing. I’m sure, whether or not people want to admit it, my name popped into a few noggins too. The thing is, not in a million years did I ever think I’d ever see let alone become part of the lives of this group of people I first started knowing at age 11 again. I know, it’s just me, but it truly leaves me speechless.

I don’t mean to get too deep here but becoming part of this “group” again is filling a hole in my life that I’ve felt has been there for years. It’s a void that, though I was never able to formally identify, has been part of my makeup since I went away all those years ago. Granted, I’m still a mess, but since I’ve been back I don’t feel I’m quite the train wreck I’ve always felt I’ve been. Perfect example: if I had still lived in California or Florida and gotten the news about my brother Steve, I would have had a handful of people to confide in about it. Now, I’ve got what seems like an entire community doing what they can to keep me upright and on the straight and narrow during a very trying time. You want to talk about a comfort level? I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.