I wish I could tell you what “way” I was trying to stay out of. I don’t remember being told so much as just feeling it. Looking back, was it self imposed? Were there looks? Possibly. Was the sound of my backing out distracting? Probably. Now, I think maybe it was more about finding my own way, than staying out the way of my home town. 

I suppose as with any rear view, “things may be larger than they appear.” Still maybe not big, but ever a big deal. These gravel roads and endless lakes. How they moved me, move me still. 

I’ll go back home today. (I’ve always been one to do what they say can’t be done.) And thrust myself into the way of it all. Perhaps I still won’t blend, but I will belong.