Which made leaving on such a bright and beautiful day hard to do. But, we boarded out ferry boat and set out for 'the mainland.' I laughed when I heard people call the lower peninsula that. Regardless, we got back to the boat dock, retrieved our luggage, and set out for the slightly less scenic suburbs of Detroit.
Steve's dad lives in Northville. Not exactly 'the hood,' Northville is far enough removed from Detroit that you don't really notice the devistation the last few years have taken on the city. Northville is a sleepy little town; quiet, and quaint in its own right. At 88, Steve's father still lives in the home their family moved into over forty years ago. He drives locally a bit, gardens, mows his own yard, shovels his own snow, and takes care of all his own business. He's happy and self-sufficient, doesn't complain, and is generally delightful to be around.
I refer to him as the 'Anti-Mommie Dearest.'
While visiting him, we also took Anna on a college visit to Michigan State University. Steve and I both graduated from MSU so the trip to campus was fun and nostalgic at the same time. During the walking tour I think I might have gotten a little excited and animated as I offered stories about my former MSU days. Other people on the tour started distancing themselves from me and smiling in that not-so-friendly-would-you-please-shut-up sort of way. But I still had trouble containing my enthusiasm.
It might have hit its peak when we entered Erickson Hall and I started gushing about it. "Oh look, its Erickson Hall!" Anna was a little confused by my display of emotion over Erickson Hall since it is one of the more benign buildings on campus. But, that is where I had spent many hours earning my Master's degree and being in it brought back good memories.
In fact, being on campus left me with very warm and genuinely positive feelings. I realized, as we walked through areas of campus I haven't seen in several years, that this is where my life had taken a significant turn for the better.
My first year of higher education had been at a small liberal arts college where I was absolutely miserable. Prior to my freshman year I had been able to neatly contain my feelings about a painful childhood and my father's suicide. But, during that first year of college, cracks formed in my emotional container and before long the fear and sadness hurt started escaping, slowly at first, and then later in a near hemorrhage.
Not knowing what to do, I opted to transfer to a different school. I wanted a place large enough to offer a level of anonymity and an opportunity to evaluate my life. I chose MSU and after moving there, the healing started. It would take many more years to come to terms with the past, but it was there that I began to understand who I am, apart from who I'd been told I was. It was there that I learned to laugh. To find joy and to relax into living. It was there that I started to know and like the young woman I'd become. Ultimately I earned a Bachelor's degree, a Master's degree, met and married my husband, and started unpacking the rather large set of emotional baggage I'd carried through early life.
The other people on our campus tour couldn't have known all that though. What they saw was an overzealous alumna who, seemingly, had forgotten to medicate before the visit. I tried to care what they thought.
But, I couldn't.
A little part of me was home.
Next stop: The University of Michigan
No comments:
Post a Comment