My college town is a time warp – to me, at least.
I keep it nice and tidy in this neat little box.
My very own time capsule tucked away in a coffee can under layers of dirt and green grass only to be opened on occasion or when I am ready to see its contents.
I like to remember it my way. I like to tell the story.
Freedom. Fun. Disappointment. Disaster. Growth. Loss. Relationship. Friendship. Satisfaction.
Then I left.
Memories to remain in the past. The road ahead to grow and teach me more than buildings and books.
But when I step on campus, the buildings start to speak. The same streets traveled by kids twenty years my junior begin to divulge their own memories. Ones I’ve long since forgotten but are revived by sights, scents and distinct sounds.
You see, college towns don’t ever age. They stay perfectly young between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five – to me, at least.
With each return visit, I realize the years ticking on and the wrinkles settling in. Where once I stomped those very streets and owned my little space of maturity, now I replace with wistful thoughts of times past. Decisions based on the experience and wisdom of an eighteen year old yield the grace and understanding of a forty-year old.
When my private little world intersects with those who are still there and those who knew me back then, I wrap myself in the history and the depth to which I know them and yet somehow, I’m eighteen again and everything is right with the world.
I do love going back.
Meandering the “who I am now” with the “who I was then” feels tricky, but only to me. There is a respect and dignity I share with those who still remain in my neat and tidy college town box adding something new each time I go back. New people, new faces, new and enriched conversations that only come with age and time.
New experiences and a new way to tell my story.
My college town is a time warp that keeps on keeping on…
Categories: All The Rest