I am spending the night and will again in the house I grew up in. There will
come a day when this house will be lived in by someone other than our family who
have occupied this scrap of earth for 55 years under this very roof.
There are ghosts. Not actual ghosts of course, but those who drift across my
mind’s memory. I can look at the light fixture in the bedroom I am in and
remember when it was new and I was 7. The closet I hid from myself when I put
on the tiger costume for Halloween.
And the tree, a tree. Well over 50 years old. I remember it as a sprig. In
fact most of the trees on this property I recall when they were being planted.
Some are ragged and broken up from age and the weather.
The reality is I no longer have a home here. The old saying, home is where
your hat is, that is kind of true, but the other truth is home is where you feel
at home.
I have changed. Maybe not for the better. Maybe not for the worse. Just
different. I always thought, if I needed to I could always go home again.
Then some wag say, “You can’t go home again”.
Maybe he was right.
I am ready to go home, to Illinois, Illinois. (The name of the state song). I
don’t know if North Dakota has a state song. It probably does.
To listen to the Illinios State Song go here. It’s actually very good.
http://www.50states.com/songs/illinois.htm
1 comment:
Gene,
There's something very unique about these types of memories. My folks are in their late 70's and still live in the house I was born into. I can still recall the slam of every door on the street and each kid's parents' calls to dinner.
Post a Comment