It's weird to come home, because it's like time has stood still. It's like I never left.
There are cosmetic changes to my town, but the underground stream is still the same. It's the same current pushing us about our day, bumping us around, and that feels weird and unfamiliar in its sameness.
I have been told a couple of times now, 'Oh good, you're still the same.' I haven't been gone forever, but it sometimes is the case that people move away and when they return they're different. I've seen it happen. That people return to their roots for a visit and believe it's only shit and not fertilizer they stand on. That they are better than their hometown. So by default, its people.
Of course I'm the same, but also a little different. You can't not be changed by new adventures.
And what has changed for me the most is I have fresh eyes for my hometown. I now look on my hometown with a new respect for its beauty. I have never, since the first day I moved to Kamloops, considered it beautiful.
It is a desert. The only natural green space that exists is right down by the river.
When we moved here, and the first time I drove up to our new neighbourhood, it was a hot hot hot July day; I looked around at the flat-top hills that we wound through and noticed the landscape was all...brown...and dead looking. Bushes of sagebrush provided a frosty green contrast, and there were tall ponderosa pines stuck here and there, but overall I was disappointed. To me, it wasn't beautiful.
I lived in Kamloops for twelve years (which is the longest I've ever lived anywhere) and the entire time I craved green. Craved it like water. The more green, the better. This summer I was saturated in green, and so with my quota filled I came back to Kamloops with a fresh appreciation for the bare beauty that is offered in these desert hills.
It's nice to come home, to feel the sameness, but at the same time to also experience the newness.
It is beautiful here.