Looking Back

When my dog Jake died in September I thought that I would never love again- a pet that is. Jake was one of those rare loves in my life who can never be replaced. He left me four months ago, and I still cry myself to sleep sometimes. When nothing was going right in my life and when I felt like I had the whole world against me, Jake had an unconditional love for me that made everything alright again. I miss him everyday. Sometimes when I have Justin’s dog Hailey for a few days I feel guilty for loving her, but I know that Jake wouldn’t mind. I don’t know if he would have liked Hailey all that much, since Jake was a pretty chill dog and Hailey is, well, completely psychotic. She has more energy than any other living thing on the planet. I don’t take her for walks, it’s more like she takes me- but we seem to manage just fine. The point is, Jake would have wanted me to be happy, and Hailey makes me happy.

I don’t think I’m ready to leave Jake in my past yet. I’m still grieving, and that’s ok. I’m going to take my time with him, and let myself really miss him for a while longer. That’s what it’s going to take for me to accept that he’s really gone, though I’ll never stop missing him. The whole idea about grieving and moving on became very clear to me when I went downtown last night to see Gloryhound and the Seahawks play. It was a crazy night. So many people from my high school were there, some people I hadn’t seen in almost three years. Some people had not changed at all, neither in their looks nor in their demeanor. For some people that was a good thing. There are some people from high school I haven’t really kept in touch with, but that I think about sometimes. Sometimes I just take a moment to remember how funny or kind they always were. Not just to me, but to everybody. I was glad to see last night that they retained their exceptional attributes.

I can’t speak so highly for everybody. I’m sure that not everyone was real impressed with me either, but it seemed like some people were still stuck in high school. Walking around like they knew better, like they were better. I actually felt belittled at one point. I am now a twenty year old adult, and I let the petty people from high school make me feel like I was sixteen again. I snapped out of that quick. Why do I even care what these people think? I sure as hell didn’t care about what they thought of me in high school and I am certain that I don’t care now. They don’t know me, at all. Three years is a long time to find yourself and by God, I did it. I most defiantly have gone through some major changes; I am no longer the girl that they once knew. People see what they want to see though, and some people saw me exactly as they wanted.

What I sometimes think is paranoia, the staring and the talking, was nothing but reality last night. I’m sure word from Bedford and Antigonish travels fast to Halifax, no doubt from some class act mouth that I can’t point any finger at, being no class act myself. It most defiantly happened last night though, and it makes me laugh this morning. From the dance floor I could see the male and female in question make me their topic of conversation, not discreetly by the way. You would think after three years if they’re still going to talk about people they would have learned to be a bit more tactful. How funny it is that these people still have nothing better to do than give dirty looks and to gossip about people they don’t even really know. It was probably something really good too. Maybe I’ve gotten into bestiality or funneled a Texas Mickey or something. I wouldn’t even care about the latter. That’s impressive, go ahead and start that rumor I’d go along with it- the former, not so much. I left the bar alone, missing my friends from X, but glad to get out of there. The people I wanted to see I saw, and the rest- I don’t ever have to see them again if I don’t want to. Even if I do, I am completely unaffected by them. I sincerely hope they are happy with the lives that they have chosen and I wish them the best.

Driving home from Halifax the next morning along the Waverley road, I caught myself looking back at Flat Rock. Our group’s little camping site, hidden away by the lake and the woods, where we spent so many of our high school nights drinking and swimming and making mistakes. Coming from that direction, you can only see it by turning your head behind you. I could only look back for a moment, before I had to bring my eyes back to the curves of the road home. Then I realized, I couldn’t spend my life looking over my shoulder to the past without losing sight of what’s in front of me, my future. I mourned for high school when I graduated, and last night made me see that I’m done. I am in such a better place right now, and even though I will keep my high school memories close to my heart, I don’t need to hold onto it anymore. I don’t think I have had a hold on it for quite some time, but just like that, it was completely gone. In it’s place was the confirmation that I am my own person, undefined by who I know or what people say about me. I don’t care about what those people think, because they don’t know me. The people who do are ahead of me, and they keep my eyes on the road.