Leaving a place gives you a whole new perspective on it. Two years ago, I would not have been caught dead living anywhere outside the state of Louisiana… for multiple reasons both real and imagined. A year and a half ago, moving seemed like the scariest thing imaginable. And then after Thanksgiving, I put everything I really wanted into my jeep and drove it all 1500 miles away from home. I look back on that and I still cannot believe I did it. I do not know how I did it, knowing myself the way I do.
People say that Southerners have a strange fixation with place and time and I find this to be true. For me, I think it has something to do with identity, or my sense of self. Sharing a memory with people… with your family and your friends you have known since before you shaved your legs… makes you feel grounded, reminds you of who you are. Holding on to the past makes you feel rooted. Meeting someone in town who knew your father makes you feel important, part of a legacy, like you matter. I have been gone just over a year and tonight I am back, sleeping in my brother’s second old bedroom (it was my sister’s old bedroom first). Driving through the neighborhood, I get a flash of how comforted I used to feel by it all; the surroundings I mean. Getting into adulthood was tough for me, and my hometown became like a support, a friend.
But it is a crazy thing that happens when you willingly abandon all the things you think are holding you together. The past few days I have heard a lot about Simon Peter dropping his nets when Jesus called. Not into the water, but dropping them as in leaving it all behind: his job, family, and visions for his future. There is a certain liberation there, I think, when your ideas about yourself and your life are reshaped and reborn. You are forced to be renewed when everything you thought you were leaning on and defined by is miles away.
So, the last year of my life has been a season of leaving things behind. And with the stripping away of my need to identify myself in a place, in a culture, and a name; all my fixations and imagined realities - I come home now and it is just me and this town. This town where I used to live. This town I used to feel like was the only place I could know myself. And the perspective has changed because I look at it. I drive in it. And I love it, purely. Not out of my own need do I love it, but just because I find it wonderful.
I love how the land in Louisiana is flat and when you are driving from here to there you can see the sunset in its entirety. You can see the whole sky. I love crossing the wetlands and seeing moss hanging from the trees and cypress knees shooting up out of the water. I love that it can be January and in the 60s. I love those things you have to look forward to to help get you through the winter like crawfish and king cake, making plans for Mardi Gras and “Gumbo weather”. It’s just a good place that I am proud to be from. Leaving was right thing for me and I don’t get homesick like I used to. But, coming home now is filled with new revelation and appreciation. I don’t know where I will end up in life, but there is a chunk of my heart and soul that will always be here in Louisiana. It is good to be home tonight. Peace. ~KP