The Last Time

No one usually ever realizes the last time that they will do something or be somewhere until after they’ve already done it. Not many people remember when the last time they crawled, the last time they were picked up by their parents, or the last time they ever saw their best friend from pre-school. As time passes, you experience the first of everything and the last. Some experiences you miss and regret, but the majority of these experiences fly by without anyone noticing. I came to the conclusion myself that I was (most likely) visiting the town where I grew up for the last time when I exited the main highway going north this past weekend and let my tires hit the familiar trail of dusty road.

I made my way to the tiny dairy-farming town for the last time to visit my best friend of nearly 23 years. She was finally making the move out of state, and I wanted to give my proper goodbyes until next time I saw her and her husband in their new place. We drove around town that day visiting all of the old places where we had spent so much time in our lives growing up and becoming the people who we are today. I visited my old childhood home, went to the nearly abandoned mall in town where we both watched our first PG13 movie in theaters on our own and took the scenic route along the backroads in the countryside on our way to lunch.