You Can't Go Home Again

· by Mr. Me · General · 1 comment

...the dark ancestral cave, the womb from which mankind emerged into the light, forever pulls one back - but...you can't go home again...you can't go...back home to the escapes of
Time and Memory. You Can't Go Home Again.
― Thomas Wolfe

This past week, I visited Billings, Montana.  It's where I was born and where I lived until just before my 18th Birthday.  Until this visit, every time I went back to Billings, it felt a little bit like coming home.  This time, I felt...

...nothing.

We drove around town and I pointed out the places I had lived and attended school.  We drove past church buildings and restaurants and parks.  And all the while, I felt...

...nothing.

It was unexpected. I thought I would feel nostalgia.  I thought I would feel some sort of emotional attachment to anything.  I thought it would feel a little bit like coming home, but instead, I felt...

...nothing.

The more I've thought about it, the more I realized that in the past, I was coming home to people, not to a place.  It wasn't a house or a school or a church that I was coming home to.  I was coming home to parents and siblings.  That's what caused the feeling of coming home that I used to get when driving the last miles into Billings.  With no family to come home to, that may be the reason that I felt...

...nothing.

I left Billings in August, 1987, and since then, I've lived there a total of about 7 or 8 months.  I have now lived in Utah County for a little under 22 years.  I've lived in Utah County for a longer time than I lived in Billings.  And when I drove the last few miles down Provo Canyon, it felt like coming home.  I did get the feeling of coming home on this vacation.  It just didn't happen where I thought it would.

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  1. Giggles

    Whenever anyone asks me where I'd like to live I always say "someplace I haven't already." You really can't go back. You can only go forward. And I really like it when I've lived in a place long enough that I get that "coming home" feeling when I start to get close. It's the people that make the home, not the location.