A Country Run – On Going Home

23 May

No matter where I go, or what I do, Fremont is home.  I swore to myself that I’d get out of that town, but it’s obvious to anyone who knows me that Fremont is in my blood.

Because Mike had a golf tournament this weekend, we decided it would probably be a waste for me to go to Pennsylvania, and that he’d probably be too sunburnt/hungover/tired to really hang out much this weekend.  So he golfed, and I took that long drive down route 303 toward my parents’ house.

I knew the moment I pulled off of the highway onto Smith Road that it was going to be one of those weekends that I felt homesick, even in my own home.  I spent Friday night watching the Cleveland Indians in my living room with my family, just like I used to.  And with a little wine in my system, I fell asleep on the couch with the TV glowing, rejoicing in everything that is cable television.

On Saturday morning, I went for a run on my country block–the block that used to put me in my place, and open up my eyes (and this time tore up my feet due to lack of summer feet – see picture to the left).  And I stopped and talked to a little old couple who always wave at me from their porch.  I took time to look out over the Sandusky River at all the people fishing off of the State Street Bridge.  I knew people who were driving past me in cars.  I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that.  I went for the same run on Sunday, stopping to talk to my old softball coach and wandering around the small streets behind the Ballville EZ Shop.

It’s insane how memories can exist in a place.  Remembering a ride down a certain road in a dune buggy, looking at the stars near Tindall Bridge with my first real boyfriend, almost crashing my car into the Sandusky River when my brakes locked up.  Watching my cousin, Clay get ready for prom got me completely lost in memories of my own prom.

I always told myself that I would never live in Fremont again, that there was no opportunity for me there.  But I found myself wishing that someday there would be.  But I guess that’s the bittersweet part about moving away from home.  People laughed at my love for my hometown in college.  So I can’t say that I didn’t appreciate it until I was gone.  I did appreciate it, but I shamed myself out of it.  And I’m lucky that I can still go back and see everything that is familiar to me and comforted me as a child.  Fremont isn’t so bad.  It may not hold any opportunity for me right now, but it’s still where I came from.

What it comes down to is that tearing up your feet on your home turf, and seeing the familiar faces reminds you that you’re stronger than you were, and that where you came from did play a part who you are today.


Posted by on May 23, 2011 in Daily Happenings


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3 responses to “A Country Run – On Going Home

  1. Tim

    May 23, 2011 at 11:29 am

    I know where you’re coming from Erica…After years away in the Marine Corps, I could hardly wait to get back here. As much as I love California….Clyde and Fremont is my Home!

  2. Danielle

    May 23, 2011 at 2:59 pm

    I know what you mean. I couldn’t wait to get out of Fremont, and once I did I was stoked. I did the college thing, didn’t miss it that much, but now that I’m living in Toledo (only a 40 minute drive from Fremont) I miss it tons. There is absolutely no opportunity there, but it’s where my family is. It’s where some friends still are. I really do wish we could move there, but I don’t see any job opportunities and I would never want Chayce to go to Fremont schools. I sure do appreciate our weekend visits a little more now though!

  3. erica42285

    May 23, 2011 at 3:11 pm

    I agree to both of you! There really are charming aspects of Fremont. I mean, who doesn’t fondly remember cruising down State Street and turning around at Rainbow Lanes and then again at Burger King?

    And what about hanging out at Rodger Young Park, and the Ross football games (even though we rarely won)? And what about walking the flood wall, or driving around on the country roads at night looking for trouble to get into? Basketball in the driveway. Sitting on tailgates…

    And bonfires. I don’t think adults have nearly enough drunken bonfires.


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