Tomas Wolfe wrote, “You can’t go home again” and after my trip to Michigan last month the literal meaning of that title hit me hard. If you have been following my story, you know I grew up in a small town in Michigan. In August I flew home to go to my sister Janet’s memorial service.
It was a somber trip dotted with memory lane moments and visits with old friends and family. I stayed at my sister Linda and her husband George’s 40-acre country home and we spent a lot of time sitting on her porch chatting.
On the day of the memorial, we headed towards Lake Michigan to join our family for Janet’s service. As I sat in the passenger seat looking out at the countryside rolling by, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.
John’s family in Northern Ireland loves it when he comes home. They don’t say he’s come to visit, to them John is home.
After our hike up to see Cloughmore Stone, and a bit of breakfast, we packed up and headed to Poyntzpass in County Armagh. I’ve been there once before, for John’s Uncle’s funeral service, and to lay some flowers on a grave.
When John and I were married, his sister told me of an Irish tradition of the bride placing her bouquet on the grave of a relative instead of throwing it to the single ladies.
Knowing we were going to Ireland a few months after our wedding, I saved part of my bouquet to lay upon John’s Father’s headstone in Poyntzpass. So we headed back to the little church and graveyard to pay our respects. Continue reading
Well, actually it’s John, but you get the point. It’s good to be home for the weekend!
We have been wanderers for the last month and a half and it’s been fun. We both love to travel, even if just a weekend road trip, but it is great to be home for a change.
I feel so lucky to live in a sunny warm climate, even though this morning’s walk was a chilly 49 degrees. As I headed out the door, I thought about last week and my accomplishments. I exercised and ate healthy every day.
I’m learning all about hashtags and applying them appropriately to my posts on Instagram. I spend a lot of time there. And on Facebook, making sure to #BeInTheMoment with my online gang.
And I’ve done a pretty good job building an online community with some cool people I wouldn’t have met if not for social media. I’ve said before that I can be very focused and I can certainly get that way on Instagram and FaceBook.
But you may not see as much of me in the coming week. While I can get focused with my online community….I will be even more so with two very special people in my life. Well, and their parents.
The best thing about moving is you get to start over. No one knows you or your history. There’s no long-established notion of who you are.
That’s how I felt at 19 in Bend, Oregon. I was determined to make a fresh start. Growing up in a small town in the Midwest was a little bit like growing up in a fish bowl. It’s not that all 2,000 of us knew each other; it’s more that it just felt that way.
Bend was two thousand miles away, away from my old life, and away from being the poor farm kid. With a staggering population of 15,000 people, for me it felt like a big city, and it was love at first sight.