Remember when six-word memoirs were popular a few years back? Mine was “I’ve found better, can’t go back.”
You know, the way you can’t go back to eating Kraft singles after you’ve experienced real, unprocessed, straight-from-the-creamery cheese. Or how you wouldn’t pick Bud Light at the bar when Anderson Valley Winter Seasonal or Blue Point Toasted Lager is an option.
On this day of reminiscing and looking forward, I can’t help but think about those six words. Especially since I just spent the last nine days in my childhood home in Minnesota. Every time I go back, I have new life experiences and memories. I feel more and more removed, yet it’s familiar. For example, I knew exactly how to get where I was going when I borrowed my parents’ car, yet I couldn’t remember which switch turned on the lights in the basement.
While I miss so much about home: My family, the two friends I have left there, wild rice and the lakes, I just don’t think I could ever go back. It just … isn’t me. I can’t describe it exactly. Maybe I outgrew it. Maybe I don’t like it. I don’t know. It’ll always be a part of me, but it’s no longer “home.”
Doors keep opening in life. New experiences await. How could I go back the way I came?
I thrive on being challenged, and I haven’t conquered New York yet. I still want to master the hop, roll, hit the deck, push up to plank, 360 to my back move in Mind, Body Bootcamp. I want to force my way into the publishing industry. I want to know exactly which trains to take to get to Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg without having to look it up.
So I guess that’s my New Year’s resolution: challenge myself. When I stop working to accomplish and pushing myself, it’ll be time to find better and not look back.