Going home

Can you really never go home? I suppose the idea is akin to never being able to step into the same river twice. Time passes on. Things change. Although you go home, you aren’t really going home. Things are different. People are different. People are gone.

But enough remains to bring back memories. Joys. Delights. Bittersweet remembrances. The pet and hobby store where I got my first two hamsters when I was a girl. Walking past the bank that in a few months will likely sport the large ceramic camels and Wise Men for the holidays. The same ones from my childhood. The corner drug store and shoe store that have always existed in my memory. The places that used to house other stores or restaurants. Lowensteins. The Court. Harvey’s. Gone but not forgotten by me.

I sat with Orville. Looking at what he sees. Watching the sites go by on Lincolnway. Remembering his Indiana roots. His popcorn company. The annual festival in his honor that he used to attend.

I was stopped by the red flashing lights at a railroad crossing. Flashes of childhood. Waiting for the freight train to slowly approach. Railway car after railway car passing by. Too numerous to count. Waiting for the caboose that will never come. The caboose that is no longer. Red? Orange? Perhaps blue? Games of childhood. Bittersweet memories.

Can you really never go home? Depends on what you mean by home. You can always go to a home….home in your memories. Home in your dreams. Home in reality. The three merge and weave together. But it is never the home of your past, frozen in time. Home is informed by the past. Enriched by it. Home is the past and present. What is and what was. Home is not a constant. In that sense, no, you cannot go home to Home the Constant. But home the process, home the amalgamation of what is and what was, home the past and present? Yes. That home may be waiting for you.


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