P

Me, I grew up in Connecticut, lived in the same town from the time I was about 4. I know this town in and out. The city itself isn't too big, I think the population is like, 60,000. My parents have been together for 20 - something years, never married though. I've got siblings from their past marriages, but i'm their only kid together. Now, P grew up in South Africa. He was German born though. His mom was born and raised in Dresden, and his father lived in a tiny village north of there. His mother and father met in the military. He had an older sister, Molly, and she was conceived before his parents got married, so they rushed a wedding. His mother had a passion for travel, and his dad often served across seas. Somehow, all these traveling brought his parents to South Africa when P was 3 and his sister was 7. They lived there for 9 years. Then, somehow, they decided to settle in Connecticut. After six months, though. His father moved back to Germany with his youngest brother, Nikolaus. P was well travelled and had a way of just… knowing about the world. I, on the other hand, knew my town. That's it. Here's the thing, though. Knowing my town like the back of my hand was more than P knew, and I could hold it over him. It's the only thing I'd always know better. Even after living here for 5 years, he had nothing on my 15. He knew where the school was, sure. He knew his neighborhood and mine. But even after 5 years, he still didn't know all the spots, all the places the locals cherished. He wouldn't have the memories of sneaking into the movie theatre, or playing hide and seek in the woods behind the train tracks. P would never remember what it was like to play king of the hill in the rock quarry. I think that affected him a lot. He always felt a little different from the rest of us. But even though all of us had grown up together and P hadn't, he felt more at home here than anywhere else his parents had brought him. We’d been here for years, but P is what really made this town feel like home for us.