Our anniversary was earlier this month. It just so happened to be the wedding weekend of my best friend from college, in the same town we where Rob and I met and had our own wedding.
So we left the kids and flew across the country. This was our first trip alone since Violet was born. That’s almost four years ago. Take a moment to contemplate that.
October in upstate NY is hard to beat, and on this occasion it was even more gorgeous than usual. Maybe it just seemed that way because we felt completely unencumbered and strangely light. Even our cheap and dingy hotel room was relaxing. I almost felt guilty about this giddy sense of freedom, but when I called my mom to check in with the kids, they did not seem to miss me. Graham only started to look for me around day three, but Violet professed to be unaffected (although she did wake up and crawl into bed with me the night we got back). So we relived our college days as much as our 30-ish bodies could handle.
Still, there is something about a small town that is kind of unsettling. Maybe it’s the fact that any time you leave the house you see someone who knows your past. Too well. Case in point: the bar we went to on Friday was filled with the same people from 12 years ago. I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without running into an ex-housemate whose dog had killed my cat’s kittens and whose husband I used to date. There is a certain comforting anonymity in a large town.
But there are a lot of wonderful old friends there and it really was a fantastic place to live. I’d love to experience it with the kids as well. So I oscillate between urges to move back and move on. Maybe we’ll just force Graham and Violet to go to our alma mater.