Melody's Musings

Water holds memory. Anyone who's spent time near a lake or a river knows this—how the water seems to remember every stone it's ever touched, every current it's ever carried. Cancer season, ruled by the moon, is the tide that pulls all that memory back to shore. And Mercury retrograde? Well, that's just the universe saying, "You're not done with the past yet. Let's take another look."

So I went back. To the small city where the river meets Lake Ontario. To the 20-year reunion of a high school class that never quite knew what to do with me.

One thing I've come to accept at this point in my life is that I feel far more affinity for the scenery of the small city I grew up in than I do for the people who grew up there with me. I almost feel a little bad admitting this but I have large memory gaps when I try to recall much of my high school experience. Those memory gaps lead me back to what I've already long ago concluded: my high school experience was deeply traumatic. I simply didn't have the language or tools at the time to adequately describe what I was living through.

My husband came with me and I only included the picture with our spouses in it because it is his doting, affection, and curiosity that made the experience even worth exploring. Bless him, he had no idea what he had walked into really. He perused the yearbooks with curiosity and I walked him through some of the stories behind some of the photographs. When it came to the senior yearbook there was something that stood out to me. I can still not for the life of me remember why I'm not in the senior photo and why my quote and whatnot never made it into the senior yearbook. It could have been because by that time, I was very much on my way out of that place and ready to bid it adieu- or it could be that it was left out intentionally as I often was. I'm not even in the photo of the flutes featured in the senior yearbook for the marching band that year. All but my individual photo were omitted- all a reminder of just how invisible I felt the entire time I attended that school.

In contrast with that- we were greeted by a "man" who attempted to cheat on his fiance with me the summer I graduated from my Master's program followed by an ex I had broken things off with in undergrad, followed by another that I had dated in middle school. The onslaught reminded me of a message I'd received by *yet another ex* on Facebook a few years ago on how the bunch of those exes would talk at length about me TO THIS DAY and were taking bets on who I would end up with and how long my marriage would last. Five years so far in May, losers! I'm thankful Zach didn't know who he was interacting with because I'm not sure how he would have reacted to the situation.

Looking around the room, watching everyone else chat and catch up happily while I just observed, I realized: I've never known how to relate to these people. I didn't in high school, and I still don't understand how to talk to them now.

As it was, we snuck out pretty much right after that photo was taken. We went to a nice dinner together, then walked up to Breitbeck Park. We practically wrote our own comedy skit about that little city as we strolled- and that part was what I actually enjoyed most about the entire evening. I told Zach a bit about how the landscape had changed over time: what used to be there before the luxury townhomes went in, what things had stood forever. We talked about the age of some of the buildings and wondered what stories were hiding inside them.

The landscape is gorgeous where the river meets Lake Ontario, and the Port of Oswego was still filled with boats. As the sun started to dip below the horizon, we headed back—eager to show our 4-year-old son the candies we'd picked up at the shop on West 1st Street. We talked about how excited we were to bring him back for Harborfest next weekend, now that he's finally old enough to really enjoy the rides.

I feel a strange sense of peace about this resolution honestly- while some people take to social media to proclaim the great time they had, my response is rather quiet and perhaps even dull. There's maybe a handful of people who even read this blog- if that. My sense of peace about it lies in the knowing that the people I was forced to endure high school with are, quite simply, not my people and that is okay. None of that changes anything about the life I now get to live with my family- both found and genetic. The experiences I endured shaped who I am and how I look at the world. They're part of the tapestry, but not the most important part. I might have been invisible during high school, and I might still be invisible to most of them now- but I've come to see that as a kind of superpower. It lets me observe without absorbing, hold space without performing. Maybe someday, I'll be comfortable being fully seen too. But for now, this quiet peace is more than enough.

Water doesn't resist- it flows around, through, and under. It carves new paths when the old ones are blocked. It remembers but doesn't cling. That's what I'm taking with me from this weekend.

The past is a current I can let flow behind me, nourish the banks of who I am now, and keep moving toward the open water. Toward my husband, whose curiosity made the whole thing bearable. Toward my 4-year-old son, who's finally big enough to ride the Harborfest rides and laugh with his whole body. Toward the quiet peace of knowing that the people I was forced to endure are not my people. And that's okay.

Mercury retrograde brought me back while cancer season stirred the emotions. I emerged on the other side. Just like water, I'm finding the paths of least resistance for myself. Not because I'm taking the easy way out, but because I've finally learned that forcing my way through every obstacle isn't the same as strength. Sometimes strength looks like flowing around the rocks instead of trying to break through them.

Maybe that's the point. We're not meant to stay still. We're meant to keep flowing toward the people who see us, the places that hold us, and the lives we choose to build. The river doesn't stop for anyone. Neither will I.