When you live in the same small town for years, you easily pass the same cars on the streets several times a day. There's lots of waving, as you can imagine - because, well, you know everybody. You begin to associate the cars you see in the distance with the people who drive them before you even see the faces of the drivers; you know who it is from afar. Bumper stickers, rear view mirror hang tags, license plates and plate holders all become like birthmarks - distinguishing features that assure you EXACTLY who is driving that mass-produced vehicle. As a matter of fact, I just saw on Facebook that one of my friends traded in her car, and my heart dropped: how will I possibly find her on the highway now without the distinctive Cincinnati Reds sticker that rode on the back bumper of her not-so-distinctive dark blue sedan?
I still pass cars on the streets here in Winston and think they're driven by people I know. Last night, for instance, I recognized the make and model of a car coming my way, it was the right color, I spotted the hang tag that looked like ONU's faculty/staff parking pass, and I was SURE it was one of my colleagues. My heart lifted with the feeling that I was about to pass someone I knew. (You know that feeling, right? That feeling that's so good that if they don't see you waving as you pass, you have to call them to exclaim, "I just passed you on XXX Road!") Then, I had to remind myself that I was in Winston, not in Ada. Let the bummer set in.
And this happens all the time. Not only with cars that I recognize, but with ANY car that's from Ohio. They're easy to spot, too; Ohio is one of the few states that requires front AND rear license plates, so that doubles the opportunities for me to spot an Ohio implant out here on the North Carolina asphalt. When I encounter a fellow Ohioan on my familiar routes here in Winston, I immediately feel a bond with them, and - like the creeper I am - I assume that they feel the same bond with me. I try to scope out the county number on their plate, guess what county that is (if I don't know it), and estimate the probability that I would actually know someone from that county. I secretly hope that we'll get stopped at the same light, lock eyes, and find an opportunity to roll down our windows and say, "O-H!", with the other responding, "I-O!", and drive off into the sunset, satisfied with our rendez-vous. It hasn't happened yet; although I have come THIS close to leaving a note on the windshield of a car with a "75" on the plate (Shelby County, for those of you who don't know), letting the driver know, "I'm from Anna! Nice to see your car out here!" Is that weird? That's weird, isn't it?
Anywho: the close call the other night - you know, sighting a familiar car only to remember that I'm not in a familiar place - reminded me of all the things that I'm missing; things that I've ever-so-recently been stewing over. Things like my dad's birthday and Fourth of July down at the pond (even though it was too rainy to go to the pond, so I didn't really miss anything). Things like the birthdays of EVERYONE in my family, for that matter (including the milestone 21st birthday of my little bro). Things like Easter, Labor Day, Memorial Day, a baby shower for one of my best friends, my 5-year college reunion, my 10-year high school reunion, a cousin's wedding... you get the picture. Yep, this all makes for a nice pot of stew. A nice pot of sad sap stew.
Don't worry, though - just because I live alone doesn't mean I have to eat that sad sap stew for a week straight. When it comes to metaphorical foods, I don't have to eat the same thing every day. Literal foods, on the other hand, well... let's just say it's a good thing that I like my meat loaf so much. In this extended metaphor, there are other dishes I can add into the mix. I'm proud to say that I'm consuming a healthy diet of missing home every now and then along with generous servings of really enjoying myself most of the time. I haven't missed EVERYTHING; I might be a little melodramatic on that point. And need I remind myself that I chose this? This is part of being independent. This is part of pursuing my goals. I can't help but miss things every once in a while.
So there you have it: strangers in unfamiliar cars with tags hanging from their rear view mirrors can make me miss home. You better keep those things away from me, if you know what's best for you.
Peace, love, and front license plates--
Emily
Well said Emily. I went through a "Sad Sap Stew" moment on the 4th as well. The forth of July without the option of 3rd degree Roman Candle Wars is just not the fourth. This whole pursuing dreams thing isn't easy; however, any really good writer or game changer has never just lived the simple life....excluding Emily Dickenson of course. Here's to hard times and homesick moments as that is what 1). makes us appreciate home and the easy recognizable vehicles even more and 2). serves as a springboard so we can actually have a broader perspective of the world.
ReplyDeleteIt's not easy going from a 1 stoplight town to a large city far away from kin. But the fact that you did this, is a testament to your tenacity and talent. Keep on keeping on!