And Let's Not Forget Binghamton
Earlier this week, I attended a funeral in upstate New York, right over the border from Pennsylvania. Driving through that area brought back a flood of emotions that I'm just now trying to sort out.
Several discussions have helped me make sense of what I'm feeling.
One such conversation I had with a cousin over dinner the other night.
Me: Driving from Dunmore to Windsor was amazing. All the changing leaves...a drive I'd taken hundreds of times as a kid...it felt more than familiar. Comforting.
And your dad took me around to a few cemeteries. We had breakfast at a diner my mom and everyone hung out in as kids. At one point, maybe I thought this area was too smalltown or outdated. Now I love it. I feel safe here. Like home.
Cousin: Sometimes when I come back, I feel sad. So much is run down and not kept up like it should.
Me: Right. And I remember focusing on that when I was younger. Like I couldn't see past it.
For example, when Nana died, I was sorta pissy -
Cousin: I know. (Laughing.) I remember...
(Slight pause.)
Me: Oh? Tell. What'd I do?
Cousin: You came up to a couple of us who were laughing and said, 'Now isn't really the time to be having fun.' I mean, we were all sad. But you were sorta dark about it.
Me: Wow. I don't remember that at all.
Cousin: You don't remember yelling at us?
Me: No. But it sounds like me. I must've blocked it out. I do that occasionally. I rarely remember stories where I'm the asshole.
My mom reminded me that once, when my boys were babies and had finally fallen asleep, I yelled at my brother because his *ankles* made too much noise.
My friend Ariana reminded me that during an overnight visit to her house around the same time, I'd turned off all the lights and even knocked on her bedroom door to get her to turn down the television.
Cousin: You did that? That's insane.
Me: No judgments. I had twin baby boys. I had a right to be insane.
My point is, I don't remember on my own. Luckily, though, I'm surrounded by people who don't hesitate to remind me.
So lucky.
Cousin: (laughter) No, we don't mind telling you.
Back when Nana died, I swore I'd never go back - not even to visit. And now, nine years later, I see the area with different eyes. I see where my mom grew up. I see where I was born and made millions of memories. I see opportunities to talk to relatives I adore, see cousins and aunts and uncles who still love me, even though I was pissy for a long time. I see forgiveness and acceptance and kindness in the faces that surround me.
Dunmore.
Kirkwood.
Windsor.
Conklin.
The rolling hills of Pennsylvania and New York are not only beautiful. They offer solace and a return to my roots.
Something I appreciate now more than ever.
Know how my cousin ended the conversation?
When you movin' back?
4 Comments:
poignant. very nice recollections, i'd say.
Your essay speaks volumes!
I grew up in a small town in NJ. Bruce Willis went to my High School. Though he calls it "a sad dying town", it's still home to me. I currently reside in Tampa, but Penns Grove NJ will always be home to me. Maybe if Bruce donated some of his many millions to that "sad dying town" it wouldn't be so sad.
Thanks for sharing your memories with us Katie.
So sweet. Lots of that rings true for me, too. :-) Except the pissy part.
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