EMILY PRATT SLATIN

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She/Her/Hers Lesbian

Retired Career Fire and EMS Lieutenant-Specialist, Writer, and Master Photographer, living in Vermont.

There Are Places That Raise You Just Long Enough To Let You Go

March 28, 2026—Middletown Springs, Vermont (Home)

It was never the things that mattered. It was who stayed—and the feeling that something in your chest was still alive, even when everything else went quiet. Amelia knew that kind of alone, too. I didn't know two people who fell in love could share something like that—and still be alone in it together.

I eventually formed friendships later in life with people some two decades younger. It feels good to actually be seen for once in my life—not in the sense that I'm observed, but actually seen by people I consider my closest friends who know me for who I really am. People are considered lucky to have one person in their life like this. As for me, I have a handful of people in my life whom I know still love and care for me and will be there for me no matter what. Amelia, Angie, Cate…these people are my inner circle and family.

One of my friends asked to see old pictures of me from childhood—I haven't opened the albums in many years, perhaps the last time was when I first brought Amelia to meet my mom in Stamford. Pictures from that time in my life when I was still allowed to be free and curious about how the world works—long before I was forced to grow up too fast, and whenever I look at them it breaks my heart.

I spent a long time believing that belonging was something earned by staying long enough in one place. I eventually discovered that some places never intended to keep you—they only intended to raise you just long enough for you to leave. The people who knew you when you were young during this time often believe they still understand you, even decades later. What they usually remember is a version of you that existed before your life became complicated.