Lost and Found | January 2009 | Copyright 2009
01/25/2009
My mom likes to tell the story of a family vacation where we stopped to explore a well-known cave. No bigger than a minute, I charged out ahead of the rest of my family. Letsgo-letsgo-letsgo! Move forward. Never look back. My mother had to scramble ahead to keep from losing me.
Interestingly, this childhood need to constantly propel myself forward became a lingering theme in my life.
After grade school, I shed the name I had known all of my life, “Meffie.” I decided to go by my full name. I went to a different high school than most of my friends. I stopped talking to all of my comrades who had known me since childhood. New name. New person. Move forward. Let’s go.
High school ended. After a brief stint in college, I moved to San Francisco. I closed the door on my high school friends and started over. New town. New people. Move forward. Let’s go.
But now... Now the oddest thing has happened. I’ve stopped. I’ve turned around. Where did everybody go?
So I begin the process of looking back, of reaching out, of finding those people I left behind in my haste. I’m opening windows that were painted shut. I just opened the door to a dusty room that I haven’t seen in years. Do you know what I found in there?
Me.
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