In true, dramatic fashion, here's another essay from my reptoire. Writing this piece was about reconnecting with parts of my life that I had left behind. I called old friends, rehashed particular conversations and experiences, and I relived one of my happiest memories. And to be honest, I listened to Asher Roth's "I Love College" for like weeks after writing this.

An Aubade to Childhood

I remember being so unfazed by my parents saying, “Oooooooooooooooooo….“ looking back and forth between me and the other of the two. “I’m sooooo sorry.” Decrescendoing on the “so” to almost a whisper. They were standing directly in front of me, my vision was locked dead center of them both so as not to focus on one more. “This weekend is that Indian River trip! You can just take the Corolla up by yourself and we’ll pick it up on our way back home come Monday.”

“So it’ll be me and the kids?” ‘The Kids’ is what I called all of my siblings and my older brother’s fiancé as a collective. (23 Gabe, 22 Racheal, 16 Jon, 13 Maddy, 10 Melissa)

“No, just you, Gabe, and Jon.” ‘Gabe’ is what my mom called my older brother and his fiancé, it was confusing.

“Okay. Great.” ‘Okay, Great’ is what my mom and I throw back and forth instead of yelling at each other.

I was entering my second year at Michigan State and going back to school wasn’t what had me anxious or introspective or nostalgic of an easier life. And then my parents were out the door in the sparkly Black Impala that my dad had bought a few years ago, and then got repossessed, and then got back, and on their way up to Indian River with their friends.

It was a warm summer Thursday evening, the sky was still streaked in purple hues, the last of the tendrils of the sun still piercing the calm deep blues and blacks of the universe above. It was a warm Thursday evening, but it wasn’t hot. I sat out on the pool deck and waved goodbye to the sun as it died, and welcomed the universe into my arms.

I accepted the change being pushed my way and moved onto the next step in my life. I went and washed every piece of clothing I was taking back to school with me before packing to leave the next day. Fell asleep at 3 am with a load in the dryer and woke up at 8 am to the sun on my face.

I finished the laundry and packed the last of my clothes into two big blue totes. I had crammed my whole life into only two totes and a laundry basket of clothes, a tote of my linens and pillows and comforters, one backpack for school supplies, one backpack for my personal books, one backpack for my technology and cords, and one floor lamp.

Not a whole lot to pack away into a car. So I did it all before noon. The sun started to feel like a bully, pushing me back into the air-conditioned shade of my house and out of the garage. And I couldn’t officially move into my next home for the fall semester until Saturday so I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and reached out to the first person I knew I could get drunk with, Annamarie, “wyd.”

“Payton and I are hanging out tonight. Come over.”

“Perf. Address? how’s mom?”

“Mom’s good, come over at like 9”

And just like that, we were done. That’s what I love so much about texting. I only have to say what’s necessary, and I know exactly how much my friends care about me. The next nine hours lasted four years, I took three naps, ordered a pizza, microwaved chicken nuggets, watched six episodes of a show on Netflix. And soon enough I was sitting on Payton’s living room floor wearing a straw hat and cowboy boots trying to find a song to appropriately kick off our “Goodbye to Summer” three-person-party.

“that party last night was awfully crazy I wish we taped it I danced my ass off and had this one girl completely naked” serenades us quietly in the background as we excitedly pour vodka into three cups and “cheers” to being adults. It’s as if the next six hours didn’t exist for any longer than the whole four minutes and ten seconds of that Asher Roth song that started the night. I sang karaoke from the top of the brown pleather couch. I slide across the hardwood floors only using momentum and socks like in that movie, Risky Business.

The night ended with an emotional cuddling session between Annamarie and me in which we exchanged a whole slew of emotions about our lives. Happiness for each other’s own progress with self-discovery. Tears from fear of the possible loneliness of the future,laughs over past embarrassments that the other missed while away at school. And finally with an unsettling calmness radiating out of the sameness of our experiences with mental health issues. Payton had been asleep for a while now and we were just lying in the dark, letting our emotions light up the room. It was painful to fall asleep that night.

Sleeping in the living room I woke with the sunrise, very slowly and softly. I walked over to where Annamarie had fallen asleep and I gave her a kiss on the forehead and whispered goodbye so as to embed myself on her subconscious so I can be with her through the hardest times and then I left.

I got into the car and sat there. The small gray 2001 Toyota Corolla in the driveway of a friend’s house. Hungover as hell and wishing I wasn’t. Alone. Hungover. Depressed.

The drive felt so long. Only an hour I kept telling myself. I’ve sat through this car ride before and I’ve driven myself and brothers four times this distance in one trip so I know I can do it. I mean, it doesn’t help that I’m hungover. Or that I’ve just said goodbye to a best friend who goes to school at Southern Methodist University, all the way across the entire fricken country. Or that I’m alone now figuring this shit out by myself. But the drive ahead of me felt so long. All I wanted to do was cry. But my body was the Sahara and the wet season wasn’t for a couple more weeks.

I left the driveway of my friend’s house about fifteen minutes later after I took a few deep breaths. I was back at university in the blink of an eye and moved on to the next thing soon enough. But the drive was the final trip out of childhood. I moved out of my hometown for good that day. I grabbed a final drink from my favorite coffee shop and I moved myself out of my parent’s house, condensed life and all. Battle Creek offered me nineteen years of experiences, and I’ll be back in time, but my home is where my heart is, and my heart is on a journey.