Exactly six years ago, when MySpace was booming, AIM was the coolest way to communicate, and Facebook was struggling to find its footing (none of us kids wanted something so boring without ostentatious backgrounds and music bursting from every page), my family moved from Kentucky to South Carolina.
It was the night before my first day of high school. At school the next day I would know exactly two people: my sister and a loud, blonde, senior who went to my new church. Heck, I didn’t even know him–he was just a familiar face. I spent that night–the first night we ever spent in our new house–on an air mattress in the dormer cubby in my new room. I rolled over and saw three red finger-sized dots on the attic door beside me. How welcoming.
The next morning, my sister and I got up early enough to catch our 6:20 am school bus which apparently zoomed by at 6:15 because we completely missed her. Thankfully, our grandpa could take us to school as he was down to help get the house together before we moved the furniture in. The next morning we made it outside early enough to watch our bus driver zoom straight past us without considering to stop. (Once we got the hang of the system, our driver ended up being a lovely lady who we grew close to as bus kids). It was a rough start.
Fast forward four years. Two years ago, MySpace was in the process of trying to reinvent itself, iPhones had taken over the world, Mark Zuckerburg was a young billionaire, and I was starting college. I was happier to go to college than high school. It was a new adventure and it was my choice. There were plenty of ups and downs, but my first year was a very positive experience.
This week, my iPhone 4S (soon to be upgraded) and I will be embarking on our third year at the university. As of a month or so ago, none of us live in that tiny SC town anymore. I cried last week leaving that house and my cat behind for the last time. That town where my sister and I never wanted to live shaped our lives in ways we could have never dreamed. It holds wonderful memories and wonderful friends and new family to which we will always return. Afterall, my sister and I are taking the two best parts with us–her husband, a friend of hers from high school; and that loud, blonde, senior boy who caught my heart in ninth grade.
God is good.