can you ever go home again?

Last night, gathered around a blue denim ottoman, I shared a lively conversation with two wonderfully funny women about home. You know... the home you start from. That place where you began life, and no matter how far you wander, will always hold that place in your heart as home. I laughed with them about how things are still the same... and the funny things that make your hometown home. And it jogged my memory... I didn't share too much about my trek back to Scituate... some of it was just needing a little more time in my heart. But after chatting and laughing last night... my heart is ready to release a little more...




I was expecting big changes... in my hometown. People had told me of things that were different... places no longer there... changes. So I was expecting the change... and while there were some, what struck me more was the things that were the same. When we drove into the harbor, it felt... the same. Walking down Front Street felt... familiar. And gazing out at the lighthouse and the Coast Guard boat house felt... as close to my heart that day as the the last time I had seen it. It was a comfort to know that the homes we passed still had many of the same last names on the wood carved signs. My heart felt full and happy when we climbed on the rocks where I had once fed ducks with my Grandpa. Yes... home is where my family is... but once, my home was there... and part of my heart still lives for that salty new England air. There was only one part of my weekend that brought me to tears... a change that I knew about... but refused to believe the truth about. Our little ice cream shop... the place our family put our heart, soul and sweat into. The awning still bears our name... but it is torn and weathered. Inside my Mom's artwork remains... but it has grown dingy and the love that was there cannot outshine the negligence. It was... heartbreaking. I wish I had not returned, but had instead, just kept our dream living on in my heart. So going home? Yes... you can visit... and enjoy... but go back? I don't know. As hard as it was to leave there, it was just as nice, perhaps even nicer, to come home to my family... the ones who make my home... home.