Chance Encounters

Sometimes I really enjoy running into people I know.  I remember the first time I recognized someone I knew at our Walmart in Phoenix and I thought, "this is really where we live!" for us, these little things are huge things, mostly because our lives are more transient than most.

That's not to say we don't run into people on the road too, because we do.  Mostly it's more fun that way because it's especially unexpected.  More than once I've seen an old college friend in an airport somewhere.  And in today's world where we track each other's every move electronically via social networking, it's even better when it's a real surprise.

Still, I think these encounters are a novelty because they don't happen all that frequently. I don't always have good days, and even if I did, I don't want to run into people I know everywhere I go.  There's always the mandatory chit chat that takes place...

How you doing?
Fine.
What's new?
Not much.

Blah, blah, blah.

Am I the only person who dislikes these interactions? I guess I just feel like I'd rather hear something of substance.

Anyway, my home town is small, and not only is it small, most people never leave.  If I had to guess the percentage of my graduating class that lives within and hour I'd say it's anywhere from 60-85%. seriously.

Now, I hate to be the kind of person that lets stupid things in high school dwell with me for life, but I didn't love it. I should be over it, and in many ways I am, but I don't like feeling like I'm reliving it, even occasionally.  I keep track of the people I want to, I see most of the people I want to, and there are only a few exceptions, a handful maybe. I really feel like life got good the day I graduated, and the further I got from "home" the more amazing it got... exponentially.

In the same way I love to see some people, I really hate to see others.  Not because I hate them as people, just because I am apathetic and don't feel like they can serve any remaining purpose in my life or I in theirs.  That's a terrible thing to say isn't it? Well, it's true regardless.

So you can just picture me at the store with my mom the other day when I heard a familiar voice and turn around to see two old high school friends catching up.  One I didn't want to see and the other I didn't mind, but either way I knew I didn't want to be caught in the middle of them.  Luckily I saw them before they saw me and I tried to strategize a way to exit the building without them noticing me. We were in a hurry anyway so I couldn't feel that bad about it.  Unfortunately they were standing right near the doorway. My first mistake was telling my mom, "I don't feel like talking to high school people today." she understood, but given their physical position she insisted that I'd at least have to say hi.  Which I did, after she drew attention to the fact that we were there.  Nothing more, nothing less, just "hi" before making a quick exit.

Ugh. I couldn't shake the feeling of how much I hate that.  It always reaffirms the fact that I chose to move away and never return. I think my husband is the only one that understands this weird quirk (can it even be called that?) of mine.  Not because he can relate, but because he's heard me talk about it for the past seven and a half years of marriage, my opinion and decision never wavering.  My sisters know I'm this way, but I don't think they get it at all ( not that they should).

I knew even before I left high school that the world was waiting, and the moment that became apparent I couldn't wait to get the hell out. It was the best thing ive ever done for myself. So when I explain it to my husband I tell him that the stubbornness to never return comes from this self created image of failure.  It's odd in a way.... I mean, if I were to live there I'd see myself as having failed at life, but I don't typically view other people that way.  I get that some people choose to live there and some, in fact, could never bear the thought of leaving (insert future rant). Either way, I don't disrespect them for being there unless they constantly say they don't want to be.  But if it were me, I'd be overcome with defeat stemming from the determination I had to leave in the first place.

Perfect example: I'm at dinner with my husband and some of my well traveled and successful friends from high school (from the classification of those I adore and keep track of). I'd go into more details, but they have seen the world and seen it good.  They are open minded and interesting and have accomplished all kinds of things that I value in a person.  Then one of them turns to me and says, "so how badly do you want to end back up in our home town?" while holding the vomit down I caught a glimpse of longing in his voice, which I semi-respected. Then I answered for myself, "about as badly as I want a root canal." here we are in Times Square, in one of the greatest cities on earth, and by far the most superior city in the US, and not only are we there, but I'm living there at the time and all I can think is that I feel so blessed to feel a sense of belonging here, something I never felt growing up, at least after the age of eleven.  Still, I had to credit him for wanting that.  Surely he knew better.  Surely he'd seen what else was out there.  And if there's anything I truly respect its people who make decisions based on who they truly are.  My disgust for him wanting to move back there was replaced with respect for our differences and the fact that we could remain friends in spite of them.

We all experience life differently.  We all grow in different places and at different times. And when it comes down to it, I just enjoy my wings more than I'll ever enjoy my roots. My parents and family may not like that at times, but they were the ones who opened my eyes and made me look around in the first place, and I thank them for it tremendously.