Page 11 of From Ice to Home
“I promise.”
3
HANNAH
Driving along the familiar highway 701, I drink in the green trees stretching along the road as I make my way into my hometown. The sight of the sign that welcomes me to Georgetown, South Carolina, has my churning stomach settling…a little. Everything still looks exactly the same as I left it a year ago. The streets are already stirring with a few trucks hauling their boats to the harbor. The locals are getting ready to open the myriad of museums for the tourists who’ll be getting ready for their tours after their special breakfast at the Harbor Club or Baxley’s Brews.
Baxley’s is the place I went on my first date with Lucas—first official date at least.
As I drive through town, the memories buried in every corner of this town slowly reappear. From sneaking into late-night showings with Lucas, to morning runs along the pier. Spending time together at church and summers swimming in the ocean at Camp Grace. I wonder if Lucas ever thought of me, of us, whenever he came home.
Perhaps that’s another reason I couldn’t bring myself to come home for more than a few days at a time.
Past the movie theater the white steeple of our church is tall against the blue Carolina sky. My dad’s sermons are woven into the very fabric of my being, those that came from the pulpit and those that were given around the kitchen table. In Durham I attended church, but there’s something different about having your dad’s voice reassure you of your Saviour’s grace and love. Perhaps that’s the reason I’ve been drifting without even realizing it.
How else would I be able to explain how I got to where I am right now?
The familiar nudge in my spirit tells me that He’s not far off…God will always be God no matter how much I might change. He stays the same even if my dedication wavers, even if I go quiet. I’m used to talking to God about everything, especially when things are hard. When I broke up with Lucas, it was because I was so sure it’s what God wanted for the both of us. It didn’t feel good, my heart was shattered afterward…but it feltright. Following God isn’t always easy, I know that, but I’ve always had faith that He has something better for me.
But then Vegas happened. ThenLucashappened.
And now I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been too ashamed to bring it all to Him…the impulsive decision, the emotions, the fear that maybe I acted selfish for the first time in my life. I’m not even sure how to pray about it, because what if I already messed everything up?
So now I’m doing the only thing I can think of…I’m going home.
Windows down, salty air curling around me like a memory, I drive through the familiar streets. Everything just as I left it. Only now, everything feels different. Because I’m different. Because I’m not sure if I’m here to hide or to find answers.
And that’s the thing about guilt. It doesn’t always show up in big, obvious ways. Sometimes it’s silent, buried. Sometimes it’s hidden in the excuses we make not to come home.
Durham isn’t that far from Georgetown—not really. It’s easily an afternoon's drive and yet I couldn’t find the time to make the trip back home in over a year. My parents were more than willing to come to me for a visit. I know my mother would’ve loved another tour of the campus while my dad would’ve searched the city for the best burger he could find. But I always had something else going on: study groups, TA hours, classes, part-time jobs. Every single day since I’ve been at Duke has been filled with enjoying my independence and building a life that’s my own. I wanted to manage all of it, so I can look back and see what I’ve built by myself.
Maybe that need to prove I could stand on my own two feet is part of why I never said yes to being a counselor at Camp Grace. That and the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to come back to the place where I’d spent every summer with Lucas. Dad’s asked me to come home every summer since I left.
And why wouldn’t he?
I’ve loved growing up at camp, the adventures and the friendships and the faith-filled moments on the beach. But after high school, I couldn’t come back to Georgetown or Camp Grace. I couldn’t even bring myself to attend the graduate program my dad started the year I graduated. Knowing I’d broken up with Lucas, I just had to get out of this town and I didn’t want to come back. Even for something as meaningful as helping out at camp.
Because Lucas wasn’t just someone I loved. He was everything this place represented. He was home, comfort, tradition, roots…a life that would’ve been safe and good and simple. But I didn’t think God was calling me to that.
I believed, with everything in me, that if He was opening a door for Lucas to chase his dream, then maybe He had something more for me too. Something different. I didn’t want to stay behind, watching the life we might have had unfold without me in it. I wanted to trust that God’s goodnessincluded me, too. That He wanted me to build a life that felt fully mine.
So I left. Not because I didn’t love it here, but because I did.
And leaving felt like the only way I could figure out who I was beyond this place…beyondhim. I believed that if it wasn’t Lucas in Georgetown, it would be someone else…somewhere else.
And I was right on track with my plan…up until about forty-eight hours ago.
When everything I believed clashed with reality.
Driving past the multi-coloured buildings in midtown, I spot old man Deacon walking with his newspaper in hand. He’s the only one I know who insists on heading down to the local cafe to pick up his copy of the morning paper, instead of receiving it on his doorstep like most other citizens in this town. I can’t help but smile at the familiar sight before making another turn down Davies Street, heading home.
Anxiety churns in my stomach at the thought of seeing my parents again.
Will they take one look at me and immediately know the truth?
Or will they chalk up any subtle changes there might possibly be to the fact that we haven’t seen each other in a year?
Guilt presses down on me and I feel the absolute weight of it on my chest. How did I think it’s okay to stay away from home for so long? Just because I wanted to start my own life somewhere, didn’t mean that I had to completely cut off my family. Maybe if I realized I needed to touch base more often, I wouldn’t have done what I had done. I wouldn’t have made a mistake that seems unfixable.
