Other Things Worthy of Your Time
The Road Home
10/30/03
You were lonely and out of place
You were looking down on me
Lost out in space
We laid underneath the stars
Strung out and feeling brave
I watched the red orange glow
I watched you float away
Down here in the atmosphere
Garbage and city lights
You’ve gone to save your tired soul
You’ve gone to save our lives
I’m waiting for this sky to fall
I’m waiting for a sign
All we are
Is all so far
-“Somewhere Out There” by Our Lady Peace
–
I’d listened to the CD since we came into the state, but I felt like I had to save that song for the last rise over the hill before you could see the city. I’d time it so the pickup hit when the city lights burst into view. It was the fact there was something about ‘city lights’ in the song that I wanted. I just didn’t know how fitting all of the lyrics would be.
I knew it’d be nighttime. I figured it’d be beautiful. I was right.
There’s only maybe 50,000 people in Great Falls, Montana, and there’s nothing even resembling a skyline. It’s spread out over barren prairie along the Missouri River. You can see everything for miles, so a big building here and there sticks out quite a bit.
Coming across one of the bridges is a huge paper mill that seems like the only thing ‘looming’ in the whole city. It’s only fairly massive in the daytime, but lights up the sky at night. Imagine your city’s skyline, but with glowing smoke coming out of the top of it…without the plane crashes. It was something I looked forward to on the drive home, but I looked forward to a lot of things.
I’d spent the last two months either on the road or back east. That was mostly road work too since we had a lot of people to see and not enough time to do it. I remember the last few hours we were going to take visiting anyone we spent trying to track down the Grandma on my dad’s side, just to say goodbye. We never found her but didn’t fret. We’d just see her when we came back anyway. She died a few days after that coming Christmas.
We were out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere along the trip, out in a little town called Turner, Maine. The place has grown up to expansive estates surrounding a big golf resort but once upon a time it was where my dad grew up.
With tears in his eyes he drove down the old roads of his hometown, remembering the things that were so different from what he was seeing now. The house he grew up in with his Grandparents was modified and had another family living in it. He knew that someone else owned it these days but it was the first time he’d have to see it with his own eyes. He told stories of fishing holes across the road and neighbors he used to vex as a boy. They were long gone too and any fishing holes left were covered by ten feet of thicket on every side, like a testament to keeping the place sacred.
My dad’s rarely the philosopher but probably put it the best way he could. “Well someone said you can never go home,” he’d say.
Even the house he helped build and that we lived in for the first three or four years of my life was so much different from what I remembered. The place towered in my childhood memories. The doctor that bought the place—big as it already was—built a friggin’ castle next to it.
It didn’t hit me as hard since I was young and barely remembered most things. I had fewer roads to travel back down memory lane than my parents did. Especially my dad, who’s almost 60 now. He’s lived long enough to see his world seem turned upside-down.
I lived in Montana for almost twelve years; Augusta for ten of them. I came into Second Grade two weeks late, and didn’t miss a beat for two years, until I thought I was too good (or felt small and not good enough—I was young) and dropped out to be home-schooled for the rest of elementary. I came back every year for a few weeks or a month or something to let everyone know I was still around. I don’t know if they cared. Looking back now, I myself don’t really care if they did. They took me back. I would always leave and didn’t return completely until Junior High. They always took me back.
For the last few years I’d always preached of escaping Augusta. We’d be going to Maine I was sure, but it never seemed to happen. I gave up when we didn’t make it out before my Junior year. I finally got to the point where I had to face facts and accept Montana as my home, and that’s when I started to like it.
No one ever likes what they have. Even if they’re content or even a little happy, there’s always greener grass somewhere else. I got to the point where I was at least happy with what I had in Augusta, even with all it’s extreme simplicities and problems because of them, but I still never got to the point where I didn’t want something more.
I miss the place now.
Had I never gotten out of Augusta I probably would have never realized what it was like to live. I wouldn’t have found my edge with the girls—I was too used to not being a cowboy and figuring that left me out—I wouldn’t have started to develop my own life lessons that have made living so much easier, and I probably wouldn’t have found God again.
If I lived back there and never left, life would be just the same old thing. I’d probably still be sadly reveal my expertise at computers and wasting my time playing the same old video games, and I’d probably spend the majority of my nights at home or inside like I did for so many years. Then again, maybe I’d go back to the every-night-partying like I did the last week I was there. That was fun. Maybe I was due to break out anyway.
-Some song by Pink…that no one in their right mind would ever quote
-
Everyone knew I’d be back last year come school time. They just didn’t know why I’d been gone so long. They knew I wasn’t leaving and Russ (our Principal) never failed to mispronounce inquiries of my whereabouts daily.
“Dinny still idn’t her? Wher in turnation could tht kid be…? Oh wull, I’ma gon’ bick to ma wulkie tulkie.” *SCCCZ* “Theat’s a beeg 10-40. Over ‘nd eout.”
I showed up one day when everyone was in football practice and the town was pretty quiet. I rolled up behind a couple of my simpler friends and sat down next to them. They regarded my presence and went back to watching or talking or whatever they were doing, like I’d never been anywhere else.
Later on that day, I was shooting around on our crappy, conditioned, crappy-conditioned basketball court outside of the school (the only one in town) when some of my more lively friends started to notice I was back. They’d thought I was gone longer than usual and might have actually been surprised to see me back. I had shaggy hair down over my neck and a goat I’d been growing since I’d left (wasn’t nearly cool looking back then compared to now but whatever). I was a familiar face that looked strikingly matured.
In the next couple days I turned more heads than I had in years. I remember going with the two simple friends to their kung-fu class or whatever the hell it was. A couple of the girls in my class caught sight and ran in to see if it was me. We exchanged embrace but from what they’d always looked like, I wasn’t that happy to see them. It wasn’t till I met up with the best saved for last that I found myself realizing I’d really missed anything that much at all. I remember she was driving off in a new car she’d gotten while I was gone and I only realized it was her in time to catch a glimpse of her catching a glimpse of me.
The next time she’d drive by, we made sure we knew we saw each other. Locked eyes, slightly driving onto the curb, cute little wave, unbearable smile. Yeah, I see you too.
I’m not sure if people were disappointed that I hadn’t really become what I appeared to be. I mean I was slightly more weathered to the ways of the world but a couple weeks driving back and forth across the country for a month in New England isn’t exactly life-changing. Yeah, I saw a Red Sox game. Nobody cares. Fitting it was a Red Sox hoodie birthday present wasted that finally woke me up to all the things I’d ever wasted on a girl I’d never actually get—time especially. Too bad it was the one I had that charming little memory of.
The joke was on everyone. I’d only gotten back from a brief vacation. Nothing had really changed.
I seemed a little lighter for awhile and things seemed a little better, but it wasn’t long before I fell into my hole again. I spent hours in front of the computer—at home and at school too—writing, talking, playing games, or something. I let myself go in the worst possible way: I let myself go away.
I played basketball like I would, but that wasn’t any different either. I didn’t apply anything and ended up disappearing further into the bench like I usually did. I still couldn’t get the things that come so easy to me now through my head. Success at sports looks good for other things, not the least of which are the opposite gender. I was always too busy just playing the petty little game, instead of playing the game and using it for a gateway to much greener pastures.
I don’t even want to think how much I could dominate—not only on my team but in my conference—if I went back after coming this far back east here. I do want to think about it actually. I want to think of all the things I could do out there, knowing what the bigger, real world is like, at least what I’ve seen of it, because I’m giddy (absolutely giddy I say) thinking about all the things I could do now and show them.
In the last four, short months I’ve learned how to act, talk, play, perform, impress, and capitalize. I’ve learned how to believe, to feel, to preach, and to be. I’ve learned how to know, understand, teach, or at least go back to acting like I do. I’ve learned how to like what I have, even though we always want more. I’ve learned how to love, not because I do, but because I know when I should. Really, I’ve learned how to live.
Too bad they're words and words mean exactly what people think they're supposed to, but while it's a common phrasing to mean exactly what you'd think it means, I use 'how to' a little differently there. I always knew how to do a lot of those things before, but in the past few months I learned how to do them right. At least as right as I've known in my life this far.
I’m going back one last time in May, for my class’ graduation, and travel some of the roads I remember. I’ll have changed, but they’ll take me back just like they always do, because I’m one of them, no matter where they end up, or who I turn out to be.
NOTES
I don't know.