Monday, October 31, 2011

It was the best of times...

The problem with literary phrases is that sometimes you wish they were true. "You can never go home again," is one that always echoes through my mind. Probably because it's a cliche and that is in the nature of cliches.

I went "home" this weekend, and on the drive out there I could feel my insides unhook, untangle, and I could begin to breathe. I didn't realize I was holding my breath. Just like when you discover you've fallen in love. A long awaited exhale you didn't know you were waiting for. This feeling of relief brought along an anxiety -- this is a place I've moved away from, and that I have to continue to pull myself away from as I grow and expand and as those people who make it home leave (in one way or another).

I'm grateful for the arms around my shoulder, the acceptance that I felt, the knowledge that though change happens in my life, there are those who knew me before who accept it along with me.

I hope that I can build a new home. And I mourn the slow loss of this old.


  1. I love this! I felt the exact same way! Thats why I have that necklace because it's more my home than any place I've lived in the last 10 years. I miss it already. I wrote a poem about it when I went for the long weekend.

  2. " ... I could feel my insides unhook, untangle," is immediately familiar.

    I'm so glad you could visit Rexburg! But I'm also glad that you get to explore new homes. I think people need new homes to grow in - like hermit crabs or things with exoskeletons. You could be a beautiful arthropod!

    Fantastic post, SJ.