You Can't Go Home Again

Once a wise man said, "You can't ever go home again." Many people would disagree with this. From my own experience, I would agree.

Several years ago, my 90 year young mother, my three brothers and I visited the house where I grew up. At that time, it was a rental property. So here we were in the house where Mom lived for forty-five years. We had all lived there for varying lengths of time. I lived there from the time I was two until I went away to college. The brothers lived there some time less than I because they are older.

The house was empty. The light colored walls had been paneled with dark panelling. The pastel carpet was now dark brown. The airy sheer curtains were gone and the windows had no covering. This was not "home." It was simply the house where I grew up. This was when I learned that "home" lives in the memories we keep in our hearts.

Several years later this experience helped me explain to my niece, after Mother's funeral, that "home" remains in our memories and not in the reality of a house.

Once again I am learning about my inability to return "home." By chance I have returned to my small home town to live after 40 years. During those years the majority of the time was spent in a small city of approximagely 120,000 people.

It is always strange how a place evolves into "home." That small city had become "home" to me. I had no thoughts nor plans to leave it and return to the "home" of my youth. Yet here I am living in my small hometown with a population of less than 2,000 people.

Many faces are familiar. When I ask if that is so-and-so I am told it is the son or grandson. It is always a surprise. the younger generation looks so much like the people I used to know! There are people who attend church with me who knew my parents and brothers - and me as a youngster! (Isn't it strange? I thought they were ancient when I was growing up and they are still alive and kicking! Not so ancient, I guess.)

Adjusting to everyone knowing me and all about my business is a challenge. In that small city, there was whatever degree of anonymity one desired. There were loving people who cared about me. So friendship and anonymity existed side by side - not a bad thing.

One can return "home" only when that individual has remained entirely the same with no experiences to change him/her. Otherwise, it is simply not "the same." But would one want it to be "the same?"

Note: this was written May, 1996, but it was interesting to think about going "home again."