I’ve talked about my roots, and visits home and how strange it feels to go back and see what has changed….as well as what seems to stay the same.
Last week we took a drive through the town I grew up in and it was like going back in time. I remember the crooked sidewalk where I crashed my bike; the general store where I could buy candy for a penny; and the field that I played soccer on for hours.
I could smell the cut grass before games, the cherry lip balm that I used in middle school; Noxzema and Aqua Net hairspray. I remembered my first school play, my first date and the time my brother crashed our lawn mower.
We passed the funeral home who took care of my Dad, and my home church where his service was. I remember the music, the flowers, the smiles and the tears. I could almost hear him call my name.
The mansion where we got married has been sold again. It still looks so pretty, and if I close my eyes I can still see our families celebrating with us. The rolling hills and the small stream that encircles it with cool water on a hot day. The smell of the roses that and the lilacs…..bliss.
It was bittersweet to take that drive, and yet I am so glad that we did. It’s amazing how just a 5 minute drive can remind you of where you came from - and also help you count your blessings on where you are now.
Just for a moment I could see myself as a little girl. Skinned knees, pigtails and sunburned cheeks. And as I turned and studied my 2 girls, I suddenly saw myself in them. Skinned knees, pigtails and sunburned cheeks.
It’s been a long road to where I am now, but I’m so glad that I’m here.
What do you think? Have you ever traveled to go home again?
