Monday, October 3, 2011

Going Home Again

Finishing up my summer weekend fun posts that I have been neglecting, is a bit about our trips up to the Berkshires this summer. I was born and raised in western MA before moving with my family to the dirty dirty, or New Orleans as some call it. However, I am fortunate enough that my Grandma still lives in the area and I am able to visit with her as much as possible in the same house that I spent many a childhood weekend now that, of course, our old house has been long bought and sold. It's a sad thing to move away from a much loved childhood home, to only be allowed a quick glance as you drive through town. You imagine driving up the driveway and walking up the stairs to find everything in its place exactly as you left it, it's your house after all. It raised you along with your parents, as a fixture in every childhood memory, surely that entitles you to some prior claim. I long to run through the yard, do some cartwheels, and pick a few apples from my tree, which I'm sure has withered away by now, and take a nap in the hammock. I used to tell my parents that I was never leaving our house. That when I grew up I would build a small house in the back yard and stay there forever. But as they say, you can't go home again, not really.

The Inn next door to our house where I spent many a day as a babysitter

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

but you can come close. Make something new. Share your old family memories with your new family. That's why I feel so fortunate that we are still able to make the trip. I am still able to share some of my past life with my new husband. He is able to see the swimming holes where we learned how to swim and cliff jump, go to Tanglewood where I spent every summer of my young life visiting and listening to James Taylor, Beethoven, Mozart, John Williams and more while looking at the stars.

Sitting at my Grandma's table while we share a meal together, and Smores around the fire pit at our family's farm. Experiencing these things together strengthens how important they are. How important they were in shaping who I am today, and how much I look forward to passing them on to the next generation when the simple things like tradition are so easily lost. It helps him feel a part of my family, a part of my past life, present life and future life. It helps fill in the gaps and make us whole. And spending time with family, especially Grandmas.. that never gets old. There is never enough time, but I'm glad we can make the most of the time we do have here. You can't go home again, but you can come close.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...