"they" say you cant go home, and you cant go back to your first love, but given the popularity of classmates.com, friends reunited, and google there are a lot of us who try to. louisville was my "first".
the first introduction to most things/people/books/places tend to set the yardstick by which everything else is compared. it certainly seems strange to me that i felt so at home in such god fearing, bush fearing territory, but the cracking thunderstorms, choking humidity, redneck accents, houses, trees, parks, restaurants, coffee shops and even target are part of my yardstick.
i used to think that if/when my parents ever left bahrain i would be inconsolable, to be honest i really tried not to think about it at all (denial is a fabulous coping strategy, particularly when paired with a healthy portion of avoidance). now, i think i am ready for them to tell me. i would be sad at the end of yet another "era", but my old school is virtually unrecognizable due to extensions, the same goes for much of the rest of the island. childhood friends have long gone and settled elsewhere, all that is left are my memories and tokens of the past.
it is hard to let go, and it is easy to remember good times. however, i must also remember that if i had not left bahrain, i would have never come to louisville, never eaten burritos at the corner of bardstown road and eastern parkway, and never collided worlds with some strange and wonderful people. it is easy to blame indecision for a lack of forward progression, but time, and tearing off each "band aid", allowing the memories to heal into nice scars, are a nice reminder once they stop hurting- you just have to stop picking off the scabs until they're ready to fall off on their own.