At the end of the week, I’ll be going back to my hometown to attend a high school reunion. It’s not just for my graduating class but for everyone that graduated in the 70’s. I’m glad to be going but the closer it gets, the more memories flood back across my mind and they aren’t all good memories.
I haven’t lived there since 1974 when I graduated from high school and went off to college but it’s still home. It’s where I was born and where I grew up. It’s where my family was once all together and happy. It’s where I went to school; where I first learned to love school and writing; where I learned to drive and had my first kiss and my first job.
It’s also where my brother is buried and where there are fragments of our broken family. It’s where, every time I leave the area, my heart aches to be leaving. It’s home.
This week will fly by and before I know it, I will be there and just as quickly, the weekend will be over and I will be headed back to where I now live. I’ll have other memories to add to the ones I now have and I’m sure they won’t all be positive ones but they’ll be my memories and part of going home.