Oh, the horribleness of coming back to the town you grew up in. You cannot – CANNOT – go anywhere without running into someone you know. Or grew up with. Or went to school with. Or worked with. Or graduated with your brother. Or once knew because he/she/it was arrested for drunk driving and it was plastered all over the local newspaper. (The joy of small towns…)

Just now, I ran into my old yearbook advisor. She still knows my name. Recognizes me from the back of my head. (How is that even possible???)

She asks about my mom. Asks how often I come to visit. Asks if I’m just up for the weekend. Asks if I came for a visit alone. (Because she was AT my wedding. She KNOWS I’m “married”. Or was…)

I wanted to die. How do you explain the awkward situation of your life to someone you’re just passing by, saying hello to?

Well, you do what I do. You LIE.

Oh, I get up every couple of months. Yeah, I’m just up for the weekend… by myself. You know, it’s cool, it’s casual, no biggie.

No biggie because I’m NOT living at my mom’s house. I’m NOT some shamed wife whose husband left her because he claims he never loved her and just wanted to be *happy*. I’m NOT currently unemployed. My life is NOT currently in shambles.

Even though ALL of the above is true.


I should just hand out pamphlets to people who ask. Because, seriously, there’s no way to explain that in polite, passing conversation.


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