Original

I tried to find it but the grass and shrubs had moved in, crowding it and hiding it. Still, I knew it had to be there. Twenty-five years ago I found it easily, the trail through the woods across from the neighbor's house. The trail I used to disappear on, exploring and pretending and thinking. I felt a sense of loss at seeing that, but nothing compared to the loss I felt when I saw the house. Memories of my dad flooded into my mind. Over there is where he kept his pigeons. Along that fence is where he had his garden. The hammock hung there and his table and chairs, which he built himself, sat right under those trees...

I just spent five days in the town where I grew up. It's been a few years since I've been there at all, and at least a decade since the three of us hung out together - me, Crystal, and Audrey. Catching up in the car after they picked me up from the airport was fun, except that, being in the back seat, I couldn't hear all of what they were saying. I didn't have much to contribute to the discussion about methods of drawing blood, since I hadn't pursued any career that involved such a skill. Still, when Audrey tried to include me by saying, "so, Glenda, how do you draw blood?," I gave it my best effort, saying, "usually by accident."

I had the odd experience while there of seeing two sides of myself. Revisiting places I used to know well brought back more feelings than memories. Several people commented that I looked exactly the same as I did back then. This surprised me, because I feel like I am worlds different. Seeing my former home, my high school, and other familiar places, took me back to a place so distant for me now it almost seemed like I was trying to recall a dream.

We currently live in the area where my husband went to school and he often sees people he knows. His family is in the area and some friends he grew up with. He has seen the area grow and change and knows what used to be on that corner, or who used to live in that house. For me, being so far away from where I grew up creates a separation that feels like a different lifetime. Nobody in our town here knows how awkward I was growing up. They didn't see me, stick-skinny with acne and frizzy hair and low self esteem.

This trip "home" was indescribably odd to me. I couldn't remember names and faces. I couldn't remember my way around. We passed the house I grew up in and I didn't even know it until I was told. We saw a weird movie about clones being raised for their organs and in one scene, a girl went searching for her "original". That's the closest I could come to describing this experience. My original is no longer there. So I wanted to see evidence. I wanted to see pictures or a video or hear about her from others. I actually heard a really funny story that would have embarrassed me, had I felt any connection to my original. But I really don't.

How is it that others say I'm exactly the same when I don't even feel like I know the person they are referring to? I'm curious to know if anyone else, in the process of finding themselves, have ever felt this separation from their "original".