Going Back Home

By Kayla Edgar on November 17, 2012

Last week, I surprised my little brother. Maybe “little” isn’t the word I should use since he’s a tall, muscly center and long-snapper for his high school football team. I hadn’t made it to any of his senior football games and I knew I needed to make it to his last.

My parents walked him down the 50-yard line at the beginning of the game for senior night. All the high school senior football players, band kids, and cheerleaders are recognized for their scholastic, musical, and athletic achievements. I told my brother that I wasn’t going to be able to make it, but I’d see him for Thanksgiving at least. He was so upset with me. I shmoozed my way onto the field and I walked up to Harrison as he was walking down the 50. He was partly annoyed, partly amused, and a little surprised. He knew I was full of shit.

Photo by Parker Knight via Flickr.com

After our picture, he hugged me tight, kissed my cheek, and said thank you. I’m so proud of everything Harrison has become. He’s an incredible musician, an All-Star football player, a hard-working kid, and my best friend.

But overall, this night was pretty weird.

I remember being in my brother’s shoes. Well, kind of. I’m a 100%, through-and-through band geek. Have been and always will be. I remember walking down the 50-yard line on senior night and genuinely freaking out.

This is my last game. The first of many lasts. Damn, I’m old. Didn’t I just start high school?

I had no idea how much I was going to love college. Now I’m going to graduate in a semester or two and head off to Future Land. (Kill me now.)

It’s come full circle. I’m watching my little (younger) brother coolly walk around like this big step is no big deal, but I know what he’s feeling. I’m doing the same thing now. Again. I’m about to cross another threshold, another hurtle, into the dooming future.

My high school band director now has a job with the county. Some of my friends are getting married. The mean girls that thought they were better than me are now working at a fast food joint and about to pop out a kiddo of their own. Anytime I come back, things are different, but things are really different this time around.

The thing is, I don’t feel so weird. The graduating senior class were freshmen when I was a senior. After this year, no one will know me and that’s okay. Everyone that goes back home experiences something similar to this. Your old friends are gone. Acquaintances are married, pregnant, or in the military. People are old. Little babies that you left are now walking around and forming coherent sentences.

When you notice these things, this is when you realize you’re growing up.

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