Memories come out of the woodwork of this town--brought on by a street, a room, a song on the radio--and settle on me one by one like so much weight on my shoulders. That sounds more negative than I mean it to be--the memories can make me sad, but they can also make me smile. Coming back to this place reminds me that I've been alive. That I've lived a life, or at least the beginnings of one. That I've already learned a little bit, and that I won't have to start completely from scratch.
At the same time, it's overwhelming to come back to a world you thought you knew, only to find that the world and the person you left behind just aren't there anymore. It's all for the best, but one tends to flounder a little before finding their feet again. I'm still working on it.
Sometimes I hear a song I don't know yet, and the lack of memory attached to it is relieving.
Welcome to the world. :)