Some thoughts from inside my head this week…
I listen to a lot of contemporary country music and a song that’s been running through my head due to daily radio play is “My Hometown” sung by Kelsea Ballerini & Kenny Chesney. While it’s definitely catchy and I frequently find myself singing it in my head, I’ve been thinking I don’t really relate. Traditionally a hometown is where you grew up, where you were raised, where perhaps core members of your family still live.
From birth until I was twelve years old I lived with my parents in Watertown, CT. Most of my dad’s living family still resides in that state, but after we moved to Florida in 1985, we didn’t go back to visit much. From 1985-1990 we lived in Jupiter, FL, closer to my mom’s parents. For college I attended University of Florida in Gainesville and really only went back to Jupiter for short breaks and one summer. My parents eventually moved back to Connecticut and then back to Florida with job transfers and my grandparents passed away in 2001. When people ask where I’m from, I’m usually at a small loss at what to say. I’m a hybrid species?
Until this past weekend, it had been 20 years since I had set foot in Jupiter. Why did I go back? My 30 year high school reunion. I completely misjudged how nerve bending the experience would be. My last visits were for my parents’ move, followed by my 10 year reunion, followed by my grandfather’s death, followed by my grandmother’s move (her death came only months later in CT). The combination of memories from those experiences, coupled with seeing classmates I hadn’t interacted regularly with in a very long time, rattled me a bit. My husband and I were able to enjoy some time exploring and I did get to run two mornings in different settings, but when I got back home, it was a lot to process. Which leads me to the crux of this blog piece: how important is hometown?
From 1994 to present my husband and I have lived in Central Florida (Orlando area). After the first three years of apartment living in one town, we built a house about 10 miles away. We lived 21 years in that house with our son, Ryan, who was born just under a year after we moved in. We upsized and moved 8 miles across town a couple of years ago and are currently renting the old house back to our son. He went to the same school for kindergarten through twelfth grade then to a local four year university. Presently he’s a teacher at another private school located only a couple of miles from his old school. He attends a weekly Bible study at the church he grew up in, helps coach cross country with his high school coach (and me), coaches archery with his archery coach since eighth grade, and sees the same family doctor who has been treating him since age five. Our family best friends are a wife who taught Ryan in third and sixth grade, a husband who was his high school cross country coach, and two kids who consider Ryan a cousin/brother and who call my husband and I “uncle” and “aunt.”
Today’s world largely encourages getting out there, not digging roots and staying put. I would argue that there is also value in having a place to literally and figuratively call home. After the disjointedness of my reunion weekend and “going back” to a place that was a home at one point in my life, I can say I was so comforted to be truly back home. Not just in my house, but in my community. I even commented to a friend how much friendlier people are on my “home” running routes…possibly because even though I don’t know most of them by name, I see the same faces frequently and we all feel safe and comfortable waving or saying hello. We know our grocery store employees, and several local restaurant owners by name and face. I have families on my cross country team who I have known for years, whose children I taught, or who taught Ryan. These elements have given me peace and security through good times and bad over the years.
While my husband and I didn’t really get to dig our own roots until we were adults, we are watching our son flourish, in several areas adulting better than we did at that age. I believe having a good dose of familiarity has allowed him take on other aspects of independent life more confidently. Will he stay in Central Florida his whole life? Who knows? But he will have a hometown to come back to if and when he seeks it. In the mean time he’ll hopefully be enjoying the growth that comes from those strong roots. I know I am.
Girl with Dog 