Nutfield doesn’t exist. It did for a moment and then it was gone.
It was the name for the place where I grew up until the people that settled the land split up and drew borders. I lived in Londonderry. The next town over is Derry. We hated each other. The towns were named for Derry and Londonderry in Ireland and I dreamed of visiting each of them. Eventually I learned that they are the same place and the people there had long ago split up and drawn borders.
Nutfield, to me, represents that time before the split, when we were all one. Now that I am far from where I grew up, I can’t even see the differences any more, yet it seemed so important at the time. The time and distance also make me realize just how much where I came from informs who I am now. There is no escaping and so I will embrace it and face.