Many applications now have a feature that reminds us what we posted to social media on that particular day, however many years ago. I came across one that really resonated with me about a week ago. On December 23rd, 2013 I wrote ‘Independence, KS’.

This was a simple nod to friends and family and that I had made my way to my hometown. It was a routine visit, so common and expected that the only thing I felt compelled to write was the name of the town itself. I was only a few months in to my new life living with myositis and had just finished finals. During those first few months of treatment, the pain was unreal, but my energy and hope were still high and largely unscathed. I completed what would turn out to be my final on-campus semester, making the honor roll for the third consecutive semester. I had several days of slowed movement and started to rely more and more on medication to get me back to my apartment after long days. The trip to Independence was a welcome respite for my body to rest and my mind to recharge with the fuel that only family can give.

The next month I found myself in a sudden downward turn, primarily concerning my ability to breathe. I have not traveled out of town since, save for trips to KU Med in Kansas City. I have found myself on the outside looking in for a number of trips, holidays and events. It’s a sobering reality. I have only been able to visit my fiance’s hometown once, and she has never seen mine. There is a celebration in my town called Neewollah that I have missed for the first time ever the last two years.

My family and friends have been fantastic during these limitations. The result has seen my mother make the trip from Texas more often and others coming for weekends of family time. In a way, I like to think of the positive effect that has seen familial events occur more often than they did before. Perhaps they, like myself, have become more aware that our time here is precious, and that no level of regret can replace a lifetime of memories.

A couple of nights before Christmas I spent some time by myself reflecting near our tree, and remembering the holidays spent with family. With trains around a Christmas tree, benches at the stadium for the 4th of July or Easter egg hunts around the church, I can’t feel anything but grateful for the memories provided by them. For now, I am locked out of the town that was the setting for those times. What do memories look like from here?