Where it all started

For whatever reason, the closer it got to the kids coming home from school, the more the walls began to close in on me.  Space.  I need space, I thought.  I just can't deal with the myriad of papers shoved at me, the incessant questions, all asked urgently with no one waiting their turn to speak, the messes, the homework, dinner, the noise, the droves of needs and requests.  All of this is normal on most days, and at times somewhat endearing, but not today.  I waited it out as long as I could to come up for breath, thinking the sensation would eventually subside, but when two of the kids started fighting literally seconds after they walked in the door, I had to get out.  I quickly told the kids, "I have to run some errands.  I'll be back in a few hours."  And then I sat in the car by myself wondering, "Where should I go?  I have no where to go."  Then instinctively, I knew where even though I didn't know why.  First I drove to Robert's old house on Woodland Hills Circle.  That's where it all started with me and Robert.  I sat there in my car, stalker-like, except I was really only stalking my younger self.  It felt like that at any minute the younger version of me would come around the corner from the back of the house and that I would bump into her.  I felt transported into some sort of time limbo.  How I wish I could have bumped into her!  I would have so much to tell her.  Or maybe it would be kinder to allow younger me to continue in bliss and not ruin it.  If I bumped into her, I thought, I would be incredibly envious of her and her life of simplicity.  I let it all flow.  The memories, I mean.  Playing night games on the trampoline with Robert's many younger siblings, the treehouse that we used to have picnics in, the raucous family dinners with his 8 siblings where everyone yelled over each other in order to be heard, the long conversations into the wee hours in the morning when my parents were out of town, about everything, nothing off limits.  All of the kisses that always felt like the very first one, stolen when we thought no one was watching.  I loved the carefree nature and loud chaos of being at his house.  He of course loved my house because of it's structure and lack of commotion, my dad's sage advice, and little Krissy who was always there.  There was always laughter and games and excitement there at the Woodland Hills home.  Everyday felt like Christmas with Robert, and often sleep felt like such a burden in our romance story.  Next, I drove to our high school; Bountiful High School.  Memories there were a little more of a motley mix for me.  I could see myself walking to the PE building to run laps, parking in the parking lot to attend a football game, looking out the upstairs window during Spanish class at the blossoming trees, counting down the minutes until the bell would ring for school to end.  There was always the worrying about the next test and next report due, wishing away life wastefully because there was so much more of it in front of me.  I could feel the insecurity wash over me, the new need for independence, and the excitement of possibilities. I thought to myself, "Why am I here?!"  My mind was silent in response.  And then I thought, maybe it's just to see where it all started.  I suppose maybe sometimes it's just innate to need to go back to where it all began for us, even if it wasn't all roses.  I guess where it all started was with two 17 year olds, full of hope, innocence, untethered young love, and idealism.  Daydreaming back to when it was just the two of us has become my safe place to go when life gets rocky; it's like a porthole back to me, the original me free of children, responsibility, and much expectation.  And somehow, remembering where it all began makes all of the chaos, messes, lack of space, noise, and never-ending work worth it.  It already is more than worth it on most days, but today it just helped to remember where it all started.