What does it mean to you to “go back home” after growing up and moving away? Is it a good idea? Does it bring you feelings of joy and contentment or does it derive a deep sense of sadness or anger? What’s your story?
I once had a counselor tell me that for me in particular, home would literally be wherever I was at the time. That I have an “uncanny” ability to detach myself from people, places and things and move on very easily. At the time I agreed with him. And for many years after as well. Or maybe I just agreed with him because it was easier. But looking back now, who tells someone that anyway.
Or is there some truth in what he was saying? I feel no attachment whatsoever to the where I grew up. Mostly because we moved a lot so I didn’t have time to form strong attachments. We didn’t move because we were poor, or running from anything, it was my parents jobs that took us places. We always had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs, but I’m sure it wasn’t always easy for my parents to uproot and move 5 kids.
As we grew up, got married and moved on to our own lives, my sisters house on the ranch became “home.” I went back last week for the first time since she died, and “home” was definitely not the same with her gone. But in another way, it was more beautiful than ever. The grass, the pine trees and even the tree she called “Sigmond” were more lush than I have ever seen them, so maybe she’s trying to give us a sign from the other side, that it’s okay for life to go on and it’s beauty remains. I don’t know what will happen from here, but I do know that a small town in Idaho will always be “home” and my sister will be there, Resting In Peace, whenever I go visit. And I’ll drink wine at her gravesite & watch the sunsets because they, if nothing else, remain.