Unleaded profundity loafbread

I grew up in a on a tiny island in Alaska. I left when I was 16, and have been back three times. The first time back when I was 18, I vowed never to return, telling anyone who would listen that the town had "nothing left for me." The next time was for my 21st birthday, and unfortunately I spent most of the weekend drinking instead of spending time with my family. Neither of these times, though, did I spend any real time interacting with the people I grew up with. I went back again this spring for my brother's graduation, and it was a little different this time. The guy that every girl had a crush on at some time throughout out childhood was now a barfly, getting drunk and hooking up with random underage girls (although he can't really be faulted for this, as it is the M.O. of most twenty-something men in that town. People learn by example.) The guy that no one ever thought twice about, who always seemed to hide on the sidelines, was now a handsome architect. The girl who (platonically) broke my heart in 4th grade after becoming best friends with me in 3rd and then turning right around and heading the "Anti-Bailee Defamation League" along with the aforementioned barfly the next year, gave me a huge hug the day I got into town and we spent the better part of one night catching up. I wanted to ask if she remembered the fight we got in on the front steps of the school, where she pulled my hair but I technically won because I made her cry first by kicking her in the stomach. But, time heals all wounds, and I'm starting to realize, and I know this isn't the most astute, profound thing, but those defining moments that etch themselves permanently into our memories are all so relative. While in Alaska, I ran into a guy who I would have called a friend in middle school but looking back on it, was really just an acquaintance. He was telling me about how he'd gotten addicted to crystal meth and had moved to Oregon for awhile to be with family, and I said, "Oh, that's right, you're from there." And he looked at me with a half smile and said, "Man, Bailee, now I'm starting to remember how things were." How what things were? Honestly I had forgotten about this guy until I saw him again, but apparently he had much more intense memories of me than I did of him. And I can just start listing all the people that have passed through my life, that I felt I had some acute, fleeting, connection with and still remember fondly, that I'm sure haven't thought about me since the last time they saw me. And I know the same is true for everyone out there. I wish I could just harness all that wasted fondness and direct it towards the people in my life right now, at this moment. But, Uma Thurman mentions in Paycheck, and I've heard this before, something about how as people we are a sum of our memories and our experiences. And I think that's a really good point.