You Can't Go Home Again

Recently we went  back to my home town.  It holds a very special place in my heart, but my favorite place of all has been the neighborhood I grew up in.  On this visit there we stopped and walked around the "old neighborhood" a bit.  

We met a boy who lives in the neighborhood now.  He was a riot!  He could tell us everything we wanted to know about the neighborhood as it is now and was very informative.    But I had to laugh, he kept saying, "You really used to live in that house?"  It just amazed him.  

I remember growing up in this neighborhood and playing with all the neighbor kids:  Kim, Nancy, Wade, Terri, Tom, Sis, David, Mike, Lori, Mark, and Shelly.  We were like a family and lived within 1-2 blocks of each other.  That's all the farther our parents had to look to find us.  Usually they could hear where we were at and didn't even need to search.  

Summer nights were spent playing Tag, Hide & Seek, Simon Says, Red Rover, Annie Annie Over, riding bikes, playing at the park, or at the swimming pool.  We used to live at the swimming pool from the day it opened after Memorial Day until the day it closed when school started.  We took swimming lessons each year so we could pass our test to allow us to go into the "deep" end. 

In the fall we raked leaves,  played in the leaf piles and had bonfires.  

In the  winter we made snowmen, had snowball fights, and went sledding. 

All it took was to hear, "Barb,  time to come home!" yelled as it was getting dark, and I would groan, say "Gotta go," and  head home.  Each of us would hear the same thing from  our parents, often at the same time, signaling the end of whatever we were doing. 

Over the years many of the neighbors have moved away.  My parents' house was sold 4 years ago.  A neighbor has passed away since then and a new family has moved in.  Another long-time neighbor is in the process of trying to sell their house.  So many changes.  The neighborhood looks the same for the most part, just a bit older, like me.  

I was blessed to have a wonderful childhood and amazing parents.  So my hometown, my neighborhood and my parents'  home are things I am very sentimental about.  I've struggled to let go of those.  I think I have let go of things little by little in the last 4 years, but this  last visit really made me see that things have changed.  The things that made home "home", like my parents, are no longer there and as hard as I try, I can't bring back my parents or reclaim my childhood.  

Thomas Wolfe wrote a book called "You Can't Go Home Again" published in 1940.  When I was walking my old neighborhood I thought of this book.  

My childhood home may have been sold.

The faces of the neighbors may be mostly unfamiliar to me now.

And if my old neighborhood friends and I got together to play any of the games mentioned above I can guarantee you one of us (or more)  would end up in the hospital with injuries. 

But I am blessed with wonderful memories.

And no one can take that away from me.