You can go home again

Can we go home again? I moved a lot when I was a kid so the term home is a pretty abstract term when it comes to childhood. There is one town we lived in that seemed perfect.
Small old town Main st with a gazebo in the town square, flowers for miles, citrus trees and stone fruit sparkling in the heat, and most of all a kind of kindness wherever you went.
I used to gather flowers from peoples yards (perhaps the word steal is more appropriate) as is pictured here in the first picture on “Peach st”. But what was more amazing is that the people living in our childhood house let us look around inside. It was like walking into this strange reality of a forgotten calm and belonging. The real life things of my imagination legends-The cupboard that my grandma would hide snickerdoodles in so I could find them. The fireplace, the smallness of our old room that had seemed giant as a child. And surprisingly our yard- filled with the most aromatic roses climbing over the fences and spilling every which way so you couldn’t help but get large whiffs of multi scented roses no matter where you stood. The orange tree, dripping with neroli blooms that took me back to being smaller and playing imaginary flower magic. The oak tree we had played baseball under with my dad had been cut down and the fields nearby had been replaced by mini McMansions. But. Everywhere we went people were warm and nice- the kind that doesn’t seem put on but the kind that’s just a way of being. Both my sister and I had this deja vu feeling. The paths nots fully taken. Is there some alternate reality where we could have grown up feeling welcomed or like we belonged? Perhaps the not belonging made us more interesting- but to feel even for a moment something that felt like home was a strangely fulfilling spell.
The latter part of my childhood spent in northern Maine- while the wilderness was beautiful- there wasn’t a day that went by that I wasn’t reminded that I wasn’t from there, that I was weird and didn’t belong. When I look at my life it has been series of moments searching for a feeling of home. It’s nice to be reminded that once, for a small year, we found that. And for one day, we got to go home.

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