Last week I headed up to Wisconsin for a weekend away. I always enjoy trips back home. It’s not just the cheese curds and sea of packer jerseys, but I like driving through my old stomping grounds.
On my way home from snowboarding I drove through my hometown of Oregon, WI. This small town of 8,000 people was the center of my universe. I drove down the road where I learned to ride my first orange mountain bike with gears, past the nursing home where I used to visit my great grandma who gave the sloppiest kisses. Not much had changed, although they’re still adding stoplights to the tiniest intersections.
I had a lot of hopes and dreams in that small town that disappeared with my leaving. I wanted to climb to the top of the oak tree out front of my old church, now it’s just stump. I wanted to buy the old body shop and make it my vintage home. When I was a Junior in high school, I wanted my team to win the state basketball championship.
I was reminded of how fast life goes. Many people see their life like Oregon, dust in the wind that can’t be caught and collected back. I’m glad those were just silly childhood dreams, yet I don’t want to reach the end of my life and look back on it all like Oregon.
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