Every Little Thing by April Jeppson

 

I went up to my hometown this past weekend. It’s only a few hours north of here, but every time I visit I feel like I had to time travel to get there. There’s something about the trees, or the buildings or the DQ from my youth. It just takes me back.

When my family goes up north we stay at my folks’ place. We might venture out to the gas station or grocery store, but for the most part, I really don’t see anyone from my past. Occasionally I’ll be up there for an extra day and reach out to some of my buddies. I’m not very good at small talk (yet), so mostly I stay close to home and see only my relatives. This trip was different, though.

This trip was based around the annual celebration my hometown has each year on Labor Day weekend. Wildrice Days. It’s as small-town Minnesota as it sounds. Wildrice pancakes, burgers, brats — mostly it’s an opportunity for vendors to line the streets of the 400-person town and sell stuff. As a kid, it was one of the days I looked forward to the most each year. As an adult who has moved away, I equally look forward to it each year. My little town comes alive, everyone gets out of their house and people come back home to visit. It’s the one time a year that I know I’ll run into people I know — and I know a lot of people there.

During the day we walk around and look at the booths and of course buy all the fun food. My kids know that I’ll rarely buy them toys or rides at things like this. They also know that I’ll totally splurge so they can enjoy a snowcone or deep fried mac ’n’ cheese. I mean, fair food is only served for about two months a year — you gotta try it.

While visiting the booths I ran across so many familiar faces. A lady my brother graduated with came right up to my family to chat us up. Her face had aged, but her eyes looked exactly the same. I ran up to the mayor to give him a hug. He graduated a year before me. I saw Erin! She was undoubtably my first friend. Our families would go camping together, our older brothers were the same age and she was more than just a friend from school. To this day she’s still someone I can go months/years without talking to, and then when we see each other, it’s as natural as if we just spoke the day before. I hope you all have an Erin.

It was Erin’s 20-year class reunion, which means my 20 year would be next year. Wait. What? How is that possible? As I’m walking around and chatting with people, I realize that we all look older — but 20 years? I’ve had almost a week to process this information, and my mind is still reeling with, “Where did the time go?”

With this newfound information, I agree to meet up later with some friends from school. One friend I hadn’t seen in 17 years. Again, how am I old enough to have a classmate I haven’t seen in 17 years? I mean, I’m only 27 — or at least that’s what I feel like.

Standing outside this little bar down the street from my parents house we all catch up. We talk about kids. We talk about what we’ve been up to. We talk about that trip we took our senior year to cut down a Christmas tree. We talk about that one time Jeremy TP-ed a teachers house three times in one night and then finally got caught. We talked and we laughed, and we talked some more.

It felt so good to be around these people that I rarely get the opportunity to see. Most of these people I’ve known since kindergarten. That’s 18 years of memories, friendships and growth. These people knew me with braces and a bad perm. They knew me from the playground and pep band. Talking to them didn’t require small talk. We jumped right back into it, and it felt so comfortable, like putting on a favorite sweater. It felt like home. It was really nice to be home.

Albert Lean April Jeppson is a wife, mom, coach and encourager of dreams.