thoughts from the midwest

My name is Rhea and I am from Ohio. A smallish town in the Northeastern quadrant of the Buckeye State by the name of Akron. A few blips in popular and general culture have shown up on the national radar; the first zepplins and now blimps were built here, F.A. Seiberling headed up the Goodyear Tire/Rubber Co making Akron the rubber capital, AA was founded here in the gatehouse at the mansion of the aforementioned Seiberling's, DEVO created their own brand of punk/electro/evolution rock, and the Soap Box Derby runs yearly down the hills. There are, of course, other things that go on in Akron but these are the few that come to my mind when trying to explain the rusty town in which I was born. We don't have tall buildings (only about two), we aren't internationally renowned for our dining or theater or art. Akron does have something though, something that on my most recent trip back to visit I started to notice after the normal resistance to being home had faded. 

I knew this spirit when I was younger, a few years ago and still living here. Many trips to many places in my late teens to early twenties gave me a strong urge to leave, yet my friendships I had forged through skateboarding gave me this odd respect for the place that we all came from. On top of that, all the people I knew who had left returned after short stints mostly on the west coast. They missed family or friends or just didn't like the place where that had moved. There was always this something else that they missed too. It had been described as down to earth and realness, but these weren't the definition either. 

As I moved I found it hard to leave my friends and family and the comfortable places that I drove and walked over my entire life. I stuck it out and moved out to.....Indiana. This was short lived and I moved to Chicago after a year which I enjoyed immensely. I felt alive and young and scared and on the edge of growing up. It was great. The more I visited Akron the less I missed it. The more I was away the more it frustrated me. People that stayed were lazy and those that left were trailblazing heroes....in my head. Maybe this is selfishness or maybe it is just moving through a developmental stage in one's life. Regardless, for the past couple of months it has been incredibly hard to visit. Until this last time before I embark on a cross country drive.

The beginning of this visit was rough and I tried to quickly get over my withdrawal of the busy Chicago everyday. I've been trying to make the best of my days here, see family and good friends. Today I had a particular errand to run. It's totally boring and I knew it would be useless but I wanted to get an estimate on some rust on my car. The auto place was incredibly hard to find, it's located off of and antiquated traffic circle in the township of Tallmadge. So after turning around for the 4th time I headed back in to the cyclical beast. I sat idling in traffic waiting for my turn to go. There's a bank that I used to frequent to my left and an A&W stand to my right. I noticed an oil change place just north of the bank. I just happened to look at the garage door, when a tough looking, shaved-bald guy presumably with tattoos came out. He quickly stretched his arms out and reached up to the sky in an almost childish movement. Out of his hands came a butterfly. It flew fast out of the man's grasp and took off over the roof of the garage and kept going. The moment was so strange, this tiny delicate creature flying out of a muscular and sweaty mechanic. I figured in the moment that even though I was stuck in stupid traffic I had at least witnessed a very interesting sight. "These things don't happen every day", I thought to myself and tried to smile alone. After having some time to meditate on the past days and what's happened in them I feel as though I might know what that something is that I have been trying to name. It's home and where you are from whether you like it or not.  It just is who you are.