Enduring

    Some things from this weekend stand out in my mind.
     It will be some time before I forget flying past the resort town at 90 mph, with almost no traffic (and what traffic there was remaining docilely in the right lane while I sailed past on the left) and no construction (what the hell--in Cheese state, in autumn?!), Finger Eleven's One Thing playing so loudly that the rear-view mirror was throbbing in time. I was momentarily concerned that there was something medically wrong with me, that my vision was weakened by stress or something, but it was just the volume of the stereo. (Whew!)
     As I pulled into the driveway on Friday, the moment seemed profound: it was the first time I'd been to that house by myself. That might seem either strange or insignificant, but the point is that my parents moved there about 8 years ago, so it's always been a house to which we've gone for vacations. A comfortable, home-away-from-home place, for both of us. So it was peculiar to be there alone. I didn't feel the same uniform joy that I've always had upon arrival.
     E and I talked about the nature of love/hate relationships. About how some of our friendships from junior high and high school fell into that category. I wouldn't have characterized them that way, but he made a good argument, and it's unwrapped some layers of...not exactly "confusion," but maybe "disillusion" would be an apt word for it, about some of our old friends. What sometimes seems like it'll last forever can only last as long as you both want it to, you know? As long as it really means enough for both of you to actually want it.
     It looks like Christmas will happen this year after all. And Mom's not going to 'throw away all the plants 'cause nothing really matters anymore.' So I won't have that hanging over my head.
     Finally, even if you leave town to avoid something, chances are pretty good that it'll follow you wherever you go. Put simply, there are some things from which one cannot run.