As I make the relatively short 2 hour journey back to my hometown, I feel the stresses of London life lifting. I find myself thinking of the last time I made this trip, remembering how I felt, remembering how it was all such a blur and that I just wished I wasn’t making the journey alone. As I turned the corner onto my road, I could hear the gentle crash of the sea against the shore, I looked out at the view that I used to see every day, its beauty, its calming effect on me and wondered…why the hell have I waited so long to come back?!
My Mum is simply amazing and could not do more to make a fuss and welcome me home. Its breakfast time and she’s cooking me pancakes (my favorite), singing along to her Dirty Dancing CD and I’m watching the sky change all sorts of colours as the sun comes out from behind the Isle of White. I’m struck again with the question…why have I waited so long to come back?!
The magical thing with living by the sea is that the view is essentially the same but it’s almost like its alive and its constantly changing, reflecting the weather, the seasons and the passage of time. As I have grown, my view has also grown and its something I have always taken great comfort in. Whenever I am away from the sea for too long, I miss it, I need to see it, breathe in the special sea air, see the open space and I have always, always said how much I appreciate the view I have from my home. I have never, ever stayed away for so long. I went to university in the local area, lived a mere 20 minute drive from my family home and although I always knew I’d move to London, I didn’t think I’s spend months without coming home. So… why? Why have I stayed away?
As I walk with some friends down to Mudeford Key and I snap pictures of the sunset in the spot that I have always called “Proposal Point” I finally accept the answer to my question. The reason I have stayed away for so long is because…everything here, everything about home and all I see when I look around are memories. There is an empty hole, that was once filled with a guy whose photos are still all over may room, whose clothes still hang in the wardrobe and whose shaver still rests on my sink.
I was struck with the realisation that we lived far longer as a couple here, “back down South” than we did anywhere else. Memories of our life together are far more prominent here and by being in London, I have escaped from that and been able to move forward. Being back home was like stepping back to months ago, when we were together, happy and unable to imagine not being “us”.
We spoke on the phone and I ended up in tears, telling him all the things I’d been remembering over the last few days. He was surprisingly understanding and related to all I was feeling, sharing with me his memories and moments since we split that have caught him by surprise.
I am far too sentimental for my own good and see “moments” and “times” in all corners of my home and I think I knew deep down, I’d struggle with coming back. When I was home before, I saw through blurry eyes and didn’t look around at the reminders quite as I do now. I think I also felt that if I’d come back before now, I’d have ended up wanting to stay. I needed the time to pave my own path in London and build a life for myself, make friends and discover new interests.
Although I realise these reminders won’t just “go away”. I have now at least faced up to them once, and hopefully each time I come back, I will contemplate our life together less and just live mine as it is now. I guess I just need to give time, time but know that it is also normal and healthy to remember.