A Walk Down Memory Lane

I went to Birmingham, AL this past weekend, and met up with some friends who live in the area. I lived in Birmingham for about seven years and it was great being back. We took a nostalgic walk through the Five Points area in Southside, seeing what has changed and the places that are still the same. I had forgotten how beautiful the architecture is. Most of the buildings; apartments, houses, stores, churches, are very old, and I love their charm. One of our friends we stayed with lives in an official “historical home” and it's quite lovely. Among the things I do not miss are the occasional wafts of some terrible smell that sneaks out of nowhere and attacks your nasal passages and the never-ending traffic. But bigger cities do have their perks - an abundance of shoppes, boutiques, restaurants, and availability of a variety of beers, groceries that are not often found in small towns, and unique bars and other watering holes. And in my humble opinion, Southside is the best area in Birmingham. It’s a great mix of college students, artists, and other interesting folks. And a few bums too. 

I moved back to my hometown in February 2007, and have only made a handful of trips to B’ham since my departure. I don’t think I so much left Birmingham, but more accurate to say I ran like hell. When I first left my little hometown, I was 20 years old and had moved to Florence, AL to attend The University of North Alabama (UNA). I left with my middle finger in the air with no intentions of ever returning on a permanent basis. It wasn’t bad growing up here, but I had bigger plans in life, and felt suffocated by the smallness. Everybody knows everyone and also “their business”. So off I went to face the world on my own. I’m a firm believer that everyone should leave their hometown at least once in life, whether to return or not, but getting out and seeing other parts of the world gives us a better perspective on things I think. I don’t know if I have ever heard anyone who regretted leaving. 

After a year in Florence, I packed my bags and headed West, where I worked in the gift shop in Yellowstone National Park for possibly the best 5 - 6 months I’ve ever spent anywhere. After leaving Yellowstone, I was eager to finish college and get my degree. So I did. Which is how I ended up in Birmingham; as a student at UAB. My boyfriend, who I would later marry, and I shared an apartment. I worked and went to school, and life was good. In May of 2003, we tied the knot. We had also moved to our second apartment, just a few blocks from the first one. Not long after we were married, I severed my achilles tendon (that’s another story for another time) and spent the next several months in a cast followed by physical therapy. That was probably the beginning of the downhill slide. In 2005, my husband was diagnosed with Cor triatriatum. A congenital heart defect, it is extremely rare and results in the heart being divided into five chambers instead of four, due to a membrane separating either the left or right atrium. He had open heart surgery to correct it. My time was divided into working in the graphics department at Infinity Insurance during the day, and playing nurse in the evenings. It was exhausting, both physically and mentally. The surgery was successful, but my husband went through a long period of severe depression. He spent most of the next year wearing a bathrobe. He became increasingly moody and I became increasingly more fatigued. 

In January 2006, our Boxer, Punchinella was born and she came to live with us when she was six weeks old. She was (and still is) my baby. My marriage was already in trouble by that point, but she brought a new joy to our home, and for awhile I thought we might make it. We went through couple’s therapy with a counselor, and it helped a little, but after the counseling was over, we soon fell back into our old patterns. The arguments were increasing in frequency and intensity. At one time, my husband had a successful landscaping business, but after the heart surgery, the business suffered as well. So for awhile I was the breadwinner in the family. Then, in September of 2006, I lost my job as well. Adding fuel to the fire was a dispute between us and our landlord, a liar and crook, which resulted in a court case. The dream was over. What had started as a beautiful adventure, filled with hope and ambition, had turned to bitter feelings, resentment, hurt and anger. 

It was my husband’s idea to move back to my hometown. He had visited home with me, and to him, it was a quaint and charming town, sort of "Mayberryesque". So once again, I packed my bags, only this time I was coming home. The town I once vowed never to live in again, I now returned to, quite anxious to leave Birmingham and the terrible series of events that had tainted my feelings for the city. All of a sudden, that small town that I had escaped nine years before, didn’t seem like such a horrible place after all. I have friends and family here, and I’ve enjoyed living here again for the past 8 years. I can’t say that I won’t leave again, but if I do, I know I will always have a place to come home to, when the world outside gets a little too overwhelming.