The other day, I took a walk through my old neighborhood. I grew up living in a small apartment with my parents and haven’t visited the house in probably over a decade. Both parents are remarried and live elsewhere, so I no longer have any current connections to who might be living in that space. I looked long and hard at it from every available angle. Looking at the things that were different as well as those that had stayed the same. I was flooded with emotions and did a fair amount of journal spilling when I got home again.
Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with a friend I had been in touch with, but hadn’t seen in about 24 years. It was his first time back to the area where he was able to take a long hard look at all that had changed. (Which in 24 years, was a tremendous amount.) He was a little overwhelmed to say the least. The first day after driving around and looking at everything he had to go back to his hotel to lie down… then didn’t want to leave the room come morning.
Having experienced these events almost back to back, I can’t help but think to myself, once you have left, can you ever really go back home again? Even if your homestead still stands and your family still resides there, your time away must have altered your perspective… I mean, if we are older, how can it be the same?