I recently went back home to the place I grew up - northwest Ohio. I've been in Texas 35 years and in Europe seven weeks. Going back to my childhood home always lets me see the place I came from with new eyes - and lets me see the people there with a new heart. Coming back to where you started is very different than never leaving.
In the span of 10 days, I visited a new grand-niece and grand-nephew and went to my nephew's wedding (I just missed two other niece's weddings). My youngest sister and her husband both turned 50, and we gathered to celebrate them. There were two recent graduations in the family to commemorate and Father's day was a family BBQ with six fathers gathered to be honored.
Seeing family - and really being with them - in small progressive snapshots of time makes me appreciate the precious nature of this quick-moving life we lead. I hold those moments in both of my hands. My siblings live close to each other and I observe that gathering together seems routine to them. But getting together with family to celebrate all those life's occasions turns simple
acts into dramatic scenes. Small conversations are given more importance because they are the connections that bind
us all together. Just as in "Our Town", I can step outside the ongoing, seemingly ordinary and repetitive conversations and watch the truly extraordinary and beautiful transience that occurs. I see it from afar.
When traveling, I use my map and experience to figure out where I am going. Sometimes knowing how to truly get back home is the better adventure.
