So Max and I are in Hot Springs, Arkansas. I lived here from age 12 to 18. I desperately clawed my way out of here, determined to make better of my life (then spent 7 years in another Arkansas town).

And now I am back.

In some ways, I’m glad to be here. It’s familiar. Despite technology and recessions, this place has basically stood still. The cruddy motels with diving beauties on their signs still rent by the hour. Downtown, once the thriving tourist pre-Disney vacation destination, is actually pretty busy right now.

The nature. I forgot the nature. I used to long for beaches (beaches, which once I lived in Florida, I rarely visited). Now the shadowed sloping mountains and clear creeks bring me comfort in my time of healing.

My dad’s ashes are scattered by a rock on the mountain. There were tourists nearby so I whispered I’d see him later.

And my old friends? Well, that’s the hardest. Some, like Jennifer, have done great things in life. Others, not so well. We commiserate in our pain. I feel 17 again, yet I know this time it’s different.

I look for the familiar everywhere I go. Do I know him? He’s fat and bald, but, yes, I think I had a crush on him in 8th grade. I feel like everyone, or most everyone, who amounted to anything, left. And for good reason. There is not a lot to build on here. If I didn’t have my own business, I couldn’t survive here.

This isn’t permanent. It’s for now, and that’s okay. Then we’ll move on to the next phase of our lives, with our without the familiar.

If only they knew what Twitter was here…