Forgetting where you came from…
I moved nine times while growing up – all throughout the Midwest.
Once, when my family was packing to move from Poplar Bluff Missouri to Monett Missouri, I snuck out of the house and ran to find a place to hide so I wouldn’t have to move again.
I ran to Brett’s house.
Brett was my best friend at the time. His home felt like my home. I knew the smells. I knew where the light switches were. I knew where to step so the floors wouldn’t creek. I knew the best hiding places.
My parents eventually came and found me. I hugged Brett and told him that I’d never forget him…that I’d come back to visit.
I dragged my feet as I walked to the car and stared at the picturesque two-story home for as long as possible as we drove away.
It was life before cell phones and email. Brett and I shared one or two (landline) calls, and a letter, but I never visited Poplar Bluff, or Brett’s home again. Eventually, I forgot it entirely; until I went to write this note.
Forgetting Poplar Bluff made room for other things, other memories, other relationships.
But, what I can’t forget is how I felt riding our bikes through the neighborhoods, making ramps with logs and plywood, learning to skip rocks, and being a pair of curious boys full of imagination. I can’t forget what that experience made me become today because there are countless threads intertwining and leading me back to those moments.
You may not remember every detail from where you’ve been. But, trace your steps often enough to recall the moments that shaped you.
Being reminded of your past will show you how much you’ve changed or maybe how you’re exactly the same. Let those stories be a familiar aroma, a catchy tune, a reminiscent image…
…just enough to point you in the right direction today.