I've been thinking about the place where I grew up and lived most of my life. I just googled street level mapped it, in fact. Bad idea. It doesn't look like I remember it. The front lawn looks messy. The house is a different color. Times have changed, people have moved on, blah blah blah.
The thing is, for about 5 months in the place where I grew up, I had everything - a great job (where I was not only well paid but well respected), a boyfriend I loved more than I thought was possible, and both my parents. I can't even begin to describe how important those things are separately, let alone together. I'm sure you know that though.
But as The Roots and Chinua Achebe have told us: things fall apart.
Fast.
In ways that can't always be put back together.
Unfortunately.
I just wish things had stayed together a little longer. Sigh. I don't know. It's not like I've got a bad life. It's just so different than what I thought it would be. And even though I haven't (and won't) get some of the pieces back, it's OK. I mean, it really sucks, but it's OK.
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