The adage is “You can’t go home again.” Wiktionary explains this means “Past times which are fondly remembered are irrecoverably in the past and cannot be relived.” I’m pretty sure this isn’t universally true since in my life I have left Wyoming three separate times, eventually returning here to feel perfectly comfortable and at peace. Certainly, the returns brought differences and adjustments, but I don’t believe they demanded more accommodation than would have occurred just by simply living here and embracing the changes life brings.
Tomorrow, Karl and I are testing the adage once more. We are on our way to St. Croix on a vacation. Our bags are nearly packed – the first thing in were the snorkels – reservations are made. We’ve contacted our friends there and are looking forward to being with them, we know what time church starts. I have a list of where our favorite musicians are appearing so that we can go and listen.
We’re going back to a place we embraced completely and called home for six years. I’m excited and anxious, even if the trip includes a red-eye flight. So why is that negative old adage rattling around in my brain today? Maybe the answer is this: of all the places I have moved to and then eventually left, St. Croix stands alone. It’s the only former home that my new home has been unable to completely overshadow and replace. I’ve truly missed St. Croix. At times, I’ve hurt for it. Somewhere, I suppose, there lurks an urchin of fear. Fear that being on island won’t be as welcoming and comfortable as I hope. Or, fear that it will hurt just as bad to leave it this time as it did the last. Huh. Stay tuned.
