I grew up in Missouri. In a fairly rural, agricultural based area. My hometown is 528 people. The nearest town of Sedalia has just over 20,000 people. Small town living at both it’s best and worst.
My parents moved to Oklahoma nearly 10 years ago. With them came the three youngest siblings. Within 6 months my sister, her husband, and children came to Tulsa. I followed in August. I have lived in Oklahoma roughly 5 years.
I admit it-I hated Tulsa. Still do sometimes. What I missed most was the availability of state parks (I would go to Bothwell and Knob Noster quite often to hike) and small 2 lane roads. There’s not a lot of hiking available in Tulsa. Everything in Tulsa involves traffic, highways, expressways, and lots of people.
On the plus side, I have never lived in a town with a mall or a variety of chain restaurants. The library system is awesome. I found that between the library and work I was fairly happy. There was always, though, the underlining desire to get out of Tulsa.
Then I married Chris. A Tulsan. He couldn’t image a graduating high school class of 28. I couldn’t imagine a class of hundreds. That’s been the thing with our marriage. I bring a down-home sensibility that he’s called redneck hippie chick. He’s a city boy, pure and simple. It’s been a good thing for both of us that we bring a variety of strengths to this marriage.
I am able to go to Missouri about twice a year. Usually funerals, visits of people deathly ill, and birthday bashes. It started out with me really wanting to go visit, see people, eat at restaurants, and enjoy my hometown. Then I got married and wanted to show Chris where I am from and who I am in this small town. Now, I just dread the trip.
We went back this weekend for my aunt’s funeral. It was shocking news to hear she had passed away as we were not in the loop about information. We knew it wasn’t good but that was about it. We were not aware of what “not good” meant. The funeral was a sea of faces I knew but most I hadn’t seen in 20 years.
Although I had planned on spending two days there we came home the following morning. I have never been so glad to see Tulsa. Nor my bed or dog. It was nice to be home.
That night, I was telling Chris that I feel like a burn victim. Hang with me, as I talk this out. Burn victims that have bad burns have to be scrubbed down every few days to remove the dead and dying skin. You can’t cut out a burn but rather slowly remove the skin. This is a painful and excruciating experience.
In the same way, every time I went home to Missouri and headed back to Tulsa I felt like some of my emotions had been scrubbed raw. I would still be excited to head to Missouri on the next trip. Then back to Tulsa where I would just hurt emotionally. More scrubbing. More exfoliating. More pain. Every trip back, every trip home.
This last trip simply left me dazed and yes, out of sorts. But the pain and discomfort? Mostly gone. This trip back I looked at the scenery, the town, the fields and think, “This is a nice area.” There is no desire to live there. Nor even to visit there, to be truthful. It’s simply nice.
It’s hard to remain close to family when your 300 miles away. There’s conversations, memories, emotions, trials, and drama that simply isn’t on your radar. Things that are little but bind the ties between family members. And quit frankly, you don’t give a rip about those things.
It’s more than leaving home at 18 to go to college or at 20 to get married. This leaving is more permanent. You are going to experiencing things-emotions, events, opportunities-that just aren’t available back home. You change. Change greatly sometimes. And it can be painful to realize that where your from isn’t home anymore. Rather,home is the place you are at, right now.
One last thing, at the funeral my uncle and his two grown kids and their kids sat on one side. They looked wholesome and Christian and rural Midwest. On our side, 2 of my sisters have nose earrings. My sister’s boyfriend has a bar through his ear. My sister and her boyfriend have tattoos on their ankles. One of my sisters has short hair spiked in the back with red streaks throughout. We definitely looked like we came from somewhere else.
In a way, though, this painful process of scrubbing has been liberating. Going home is not an option. Nor do I want it to be an option at this point. After this long period of time, I am ready to move forward. Accept Tulsa. Perhaps that is why buying a house here finally feels okay. It’s an acceptance of my place in the world.
Look forward and not past. See today as it is and be prepared to shrug off those things which hinder you. It’s time to loosen up, quit holding on to the past so tightly, and move confidently forward. This is my new mantra.
