My mom called me today. One of my uncles recently celebrated his 90th birthday. I loved my mom’s version of the party. After our conversation, I pictured the scene and drew out the memories of my uncles and cousins. Home.
This post was buried in the archives. It’s back in case you haven’t read it.
I visited my hometown, a place I haven’t seen in years, to attend a wedding. A day before the wedding, my feelings of nostalgia led me to the old neighborhood where I grew up. How differerent it looked from the days of my youth! It took days to untangle my emotions and wrap them up in words.
Here’s what I told myself:
What did you expect? When you walked away thirty years ago, did you think you were the only one who would leave? You thought home would always be there, didn’t you? Well, things change.
Where you once lived, the new owners have installed wrought iron stairs leading to your old room on the second floor. At the top of the stairs is a door instead of a window. Two familites live there now.
As you walk the streets of your childhood memories, you notice the sidewalks where you learned to ride a…
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