A little nostalgic, a little numb

"you know it's always weird when someone you haven't seen in years dies. what do you say? what do you do? I guess nothing, but that feels wrong too."

My sister posted this on Facebook the other day, and I can't come up with a better way to describe how I feel right now. A boy we both used to know was killed in a car crash late Saturday night. He lived two houses down from us when we lived in Dublin, and we were all part of the big group of kids who ran down the sidewalks and through the backyards (before everyone put up fences) every evening during the spring, summer, and fall. I never knew Kyle very well, because he was three years younger than me and that made a big difference at the time, but he sometimes played with the boys who were my age. My sister and his sister were very close in age, and they knew each other better.

I haven't seen or heard from Kyle and his family in the eight years since we moved from that neighborhood, but I still feel really affected by this news. I'm sure part of it is being down here in Ecuador and already really wanting to come home, but I think the other part is shock. A very dear lady from my church passed away in October, and I was very sad, but her death wasn't unexpected. She was 90-something and had been ill for a while. Kyle was a senior in high school. He was apparently a varsity football player on a date with his cheerleader girlfriend, and neither of them were wearing seat belts. That's something I'll never, ever understand. Buckling your seat belt takes less than a second, and it can save your life.

Other than the pure tragedy of the situation, I think the thing that makes me the saddest is that I'll never think of Gnarled Pine Drive and my old neighborhood the same way again. That world was sort of perfectly sealed in a vacuum in my memory when I left the neighborhood public school in sixth grade, even before we moved. We were young; we were invincible beyond broken hands and scraped chins; and everything was sandboxes, fireflies, ice cream trucks, and Power Rangers. Sometimes it's easy to convince myself that none of my first friends ever grew up, changed, got girlfriends and drivers' licenses, made mistakes. I guess it's a loss-of-innocence thing.

I can't imagine what Kyle's family must be going through. I can't imagine what Christmas will be like for them this year. I wonder if they'll still wrap lights around the small lamppost in their front yard. I remember the stir it caused in the neighborhood when they painted their front door and mailbox magenta, and though I'll always associate them with the pink and blue house, the picture in my mind is now sad and dreary. The one comfort is that Kyle and his girlfriend apparently were Christians, so they've gone home to be with Jesus and their families will see them again someday.

I suppose all of this is a wake up call. You never think anything will happen to anyone you know, and then something happens. So think about what you do. Think about the people you love. Hug your family and friends every day, and buckle your seat belt!! If you won't do it for yourself, do it for your mom or your sister or your roommate or your best friend.

Now more than ever, I can't wait to get home and celebrate Christmas with my family and friends.

Days till I come home: 12