A Homecoming
It had been three long years since I last stepped foot in my hometown. The night air was dank and musty and I knew without hesitation that the town had not changed. I felt a sense of nostalgia, not only of the place I had grown up in, but also of the people, faces, and events of my past.
I walked the cracked sidewalks and weaved my way through the town, and each step brought back familiar feelings. Slipping into a neighborhood bar, there was still the same heavy atmosphere and the same regulars, all of them engaged in the same conversations from years ago. I could just hear the voices bouncing off the walls, “Hey Jimbo, check out this shot I made yesterday” and “Say, did ya hear about ol’ Maggie’s boy?”.
The faces in the bar were recognizable, even though time had etched their years upon them. What had once been youthful features of the young would-be adults of the town had matured and faded. The patrons all knew me from years ago, and we exchanged handshakes and hugs with genuine warmth, blending our newfound present with a shared past.
Exiting the bar, I continued my stroll through the streets and neighborhoods of my hometown. But as I took in the sights and sounds of my home, I became increasingly aware of the absence of one thing. While the comforts of familiarity were there, the people I had grown up with were not. So many of my friends and classmates had moved away, never to return to the small town. It seemed that much of the life I once knew had moved on.
Tattered memories were still plastered to the walls of the town, but there was a noticeable absence of the laughter I remembered. I saw the world I had grown up in differently as I peered through the glass of this new reality. The world I grew up in was still there, but only as faint reminders of its past.
I took in the night’s chill and ran my hands over the faded surface of the weathered town. My homecoming was more than just a return to the past, but a journey of undiscovered future. To me it was a reminder that the times and places you have known have become the bedrock of who you are and what you may eventually become. I felt a sudden peace in returning to the familiar streets, and I knew that it was time to find a way back home.
Perhaps someday I will share the same conversation with a new set of young folks, and maybe I can be the one to share the memory of what our town once had. Even if it is only in passing, I want to pass down the stories of our past. For if ever I had needed a sense of coming home, it would come in the familiarity of the tales of times gone by.
