A Living in My Hometown

When I was 19, I ran for the hills. I didn’t. I moved two towns away, closer to the city, but that was enough to lose contact with some of my closest friends. We were in different places, running at different paces. Most of them were in college and I was bouncing between full time work, college, and a very busy social life.

Also, my father was dying. I didn’t make my decision to get away from my friends. They had always been the nucleus in my life. I simply knew I couldn’t live with my mother and I had to make a choice. I chose to move in with my aunt, closer to work and school, and sacrificed my roots. This was not a decision that came easily and it felt like I was leaving behind all I had ever known.

We tried, in the beginning to keep in each other’s day-to-day, but it was difficult. I was working 40 hours a week and couldn’t make every social event. Eventually they stopped asking and I stopped worrying. There was no bad blood. I missed them and kept in touch with quite a few, but it wasn’t the same.

As life moved on, I moved further into town. First, to the south shore where I could afford my own apartment, but, this was a hike for my childhood friends and, for me, when I went back. I was jealous of how tight they all still were and felt like we weren’t on the same page anymore when I didn’t know all of the new people or places. I felt so left out. Now, I know that this probably appeared to them as being aloof or ambivalent. It was the 90s and we were still poor communicators.

From Quincy, I moved to South Boston, back to the city. I was again closer to work and friends, but life was busy. I worked two jobs to pay my rent and live the life I’d grown accustomed to. I still had very little extra time. And, I was spreading my time between several friend groups that I had grown along the way. I had lost contact with more childhood friends than I had ever dreamed. I still saw them at weddings, funerals, and big events but the divide was growing.

Shortly after I got married, we moved to Dorchester. We needed an apartment that wasn’t on the third floor as we grew our family. I stayed in Dorchester for a little longer than three years and had both of my children while at that address. With babies, my sister suggested that I move back to my hometown and raise my kids there, where I had more of a support group.

I struggled with this decision. I had lost contact with most of my friends. I was in an unhappy marriage. I was depressed and hiding so much. I couldn’t fathom returning. In the end, we decided to go. It was life-changing.

I was still busy. I was working and had two toddlers. My friends were busy too, all at different points in their lives. But, I knew they were there. I knew I could reach out at any time and I would meet up with them occasionally. These meetings gave me back the confidence I needed. When I was with my people, in my town, I was Jenn Burke. This was a version of me that my husband had never met. This is a version of me who can do anything. She is the Lizard King.

Oh God, did I need that! Slowly but surely, I was regaining steam. My backbone was returning and my head was returning to its upright position. The turning point was when someone organized a reunion for the kids who grew up at the park near my childhood home. I attended and met so many people I hadn’t seen for years. I was reminded of who I was and the network I had forgotten.

A couple of months after that reunion, I asked my husband to leave. My childhood friends still weren’t in my day-to-day but I knew where they were if I needed them. I didn’t make this decision because I knew I had them. I made this decision because I remembered who I was.

In the time, following my separation, I heard from so many people in my life, people from all of those friend groups. I hadn’t realized how much I had closed off to survive, save face, and appear happy. I didn’t realize how much better it was to actually be happy. Do not get me wrong, total happiness was a process, but, at that point, I knew it was a possibility.

I was at the beginning of a new journey and where better to be than where it all started out? It has been 14 years since those days and a lot longer since I left my home to begin with. I realize now that home is not necessarily an address but more of a feeling.

I am at home in myself. I am comfortable in who I am and the journey it took me to get here. My address is a bonus. Just this morning, I had a long conversation with the girl I walked to kindergarten with. Despite, the ups and downs and different roads we have travelled, I am beyond grateful to be able to have these people back in my life. As always, there are some I talk to every day and some not quite as often.

I know when I leave my house that I can never be sure who I’ll bump into. I know that if I have to choose between taking the time to put on makeup or run to the store quick, I should probably take the extra couple of minutes. But, I also know that I never lost the friends I thought I had. I simply misplaced them for a while. Now, many of our children are growing up together in the same town we ran as teenagers. We meet in grocery stores and local eateries, sports fields and school functions. We pick up like we never lost a beat.

It’s funny how life comes full circle. Sometimes you need to figure out current problems with someone who knows you from the beginning. Sometimes you need to return, even if only in your mind, to the days when you had no worries but getting a tan and who was zooming who (in a very different way than posts 2020 Zooming). I am very lucky to have these people. They were always right where I left them and the bonds I created in my childhood and teenage years are strong, and have withstood so many changes, most importantly, time.