The path is familiar.
Second nature.
The first time I followed it, I was only 14.
Unable to drive.
Unable to process what it meant.
How I would change.
While the path stayed the same.
*
The first time it was the I-90 to 271, to 71, to 270, to 70…and off the highway in the middle of Indiana.
A far cry from home.
From the suburbs of Buffalo, the suburbs of Indianapolis – that felt to me more rural than suburban.
From attitudes and pride, to looking people in the eye and church.
A foreign land.
*
For three years we traversed the path between two worlds frequently.
We lingered in the past, and at the same time moved forward.
Our lives moved on, and a few years later, so did we.
We left behind Indiana and followed new paths…
Only to return again.
Not “home”…no, not New York.
“Home.” Indiana.
*
20 years later I could still drive the path blindfolded.
I know the way.
I can still find my way through my old home town, even though I learned to drive 500 miles away from it.
Instinct brings me back around.
But I don’t.
*
Now the roles are reversed.
This foreign land has become home.
Familiar.
Safe.
The last time I drove that route was 2 years ago…and it was for a funeral.
Before that, almost 4 years had passed.
I missed much.
So much it’s now foreign.
There are days I miss that land.
Days I feel my heart call me home.
But life has moved on.
And so have I.
*
I will return again.
I will eat the familiar, delicious foods.
I will drive the pathways that no longer lead to the same places I remember, where strangers now live, or where the home itself has been changed.
Because a piece of me will always remember and belong.
*
Those interstate pathways carried me away.
Took me to places I never expected.
But they can never lead home again.
The A-Z Challenge has over 1900 participants, all blogging from A to Z this month. Check them out and see if you can’t find a few new favorites!!
Beautiful! It’s surreal sometimes, when you return to a place you knew so well and find it changed. when it’s no longer home.
Happy blogging!
Kaye Draper at Write Me