I am in North Car­olina this week. Coming here is like a crim­inal returning to the scene of a crime. So many things hap­pened here that I’m either not proud of or would prefer to forget. Of course, there are also a number of good things that hap­pened here as well. I grad­u­ated from high school and col­lege here. I got my first real job here. I met a number of my best friends here. Those things should be remem­bered and celebrated.

How­ever, dri­ving around on the roads trig­gers relent­less deja vu. I will remember another time I drove down cer­tain roads and remember/feel what I felt then. Coming here is like going back in time to see a younger ver­sion of myself. I wonder what that younger me would think of me now. I was always impa­tient to grow up, to mature. Maybe it would have been nice to know that it would happen even­tu­ally – and that it would never stop.