In 2008, I entered my first little courtship after my divorce. It was kind of cute. It lasted for maybe 10 cute little weeks. I respect the man it was with. We had different ideas about life. We had different ideas about where our little courtship was going. He broke up with me twice. But I was ok. After the 2nd time, it was high time for me to move on.
I'm not sure we agree on what happened (which is code for I'm pretty sure there is large disagreement about what happened). We have a lot of mutual friends, but this boy and I, we don't really talk anymore. It still feels a little awkward. But who's to drag things out? I moved to Portland and got on with my life.
I got this job in August and found out I would be helping to cover mental health services for not one but TWO rural counties. The other county is partway between here and the Vineyard Town. The other county is the boy's hometown county.
This isn't really a problem. Several of my present co workers know the boy's family, and know him, and have heard a little about what happened, but I don't waste a lot of time explaining myself.
It was four years ago.
It's all good and fine until you've driven to this other rural county three horrendous times in one night to cover crisis. I put 250 miles on my car that night (and 250 hard miles on my SOUL. Just kidding. Kind of.). In the morning, when I was getting a client ready for transport at the hospital, the county ambulance's team came in and who should be in charge?
The boy's father.
He gave me the look that said, I think I know who you are and I think I know what happened. I was going to do the polite rural thing and re-introduce myself, but there just wasn't time. It just wasn't appropriate as we were discussing what type of restraints, if any, would be helpful.
Funny how in these rural counties you never fully put your decisions behind you.
I came home the next day and told Shoes, who laughed heartily and said, "Oh man. Who would have known that this would keep hanging around you?" Shoes doesn't care so much. He likes this other boy. Thinks the entire situation is amusing.
So here I am.
Back in Rural E Washington.
And even though I purposefully did not return to the Vineyard Town, the Vineyard Town still has a hold on me.
Well, blessed be, I suppose. Next time I'll just tell Bob the Ambulance Driver that I remember who he is. That's another rural thing, I think. You just have to own it and be out with it.
Horizontal linkages and such. Theory right down into practice. Sigh.