Going Home

Lazy and sun-kissed

Roan and I are in Colorado, staying at the home of Roan’s Grandpa Genius which also happens to be my childhood home.  The place has been through a lot of changes – all the kids are gone, repainting has been done, cupboards have been torn out, a wife has been added (still, my dad only has one at a time as I’ve previously stated) and my bedroom which I never ever snuck out of nor let anyone sneak in to (today may or may not be opposite day) is now home to four bunk beds and nary a Sex Pistols poster in sight.

I’ve never really mourned the changing of a home or its landscape but  last night as I was closing the door to my old room I noticed that the ceiling is still holding on to a dozen or so plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that I stuck up there decades ago.  I never would have asked to keep them up, but I’m really happy these little time-stamps from my life are still working their adhesive and glow-y magic.

Coming home always feels nostalgic and strange.  I don’t really remember how to get anywhere, but put me behind the wheel of a car and I will arrive.  There’s a hill nearby which causes me to blush each time I go past it as I remember my sister Lori and I sunbathing naked up on the top of it, naïvely believing that we were being discreet.  And that skin cancer was a myth.  Nevermind that it’s not actually that high of a hill, and that there’s a somewhat busy road around its perimeter.  To all the weirdos and not-so-weirdos out in the world that got an eyeful of my sister and me, you’re welcome.

Roan comes by his archery prowess honestly - Grandpa Genius handing down the secrets

The funniest thing of all is that I’m running around this place with my very own son.  There’s always this feeling that a ghost of my angsty past is hanging around here, and I wonder if I’d like to talk to her?  But what would I say?  That everything turns out great?  I dunno – life has been pretty messed up in places.  That I should do something different?  Yeh, actually – there are a few things I’d change, but who knows where that would have landed me?  I guess I’d just be all, “So.  You end up marrying a really hot guy who loves you like crazy, and having a son who breaks your heart every day because it’s too full of love, and then having twins in NYC where you have no room to even have a pet rock”  And my teenage self would probably think I was authority and authority sucks so she’d just go on spraying Aqua Net (pink can) on her hair while listening to The Cure and dreaming of seducing rock stars and living fast, anywhere but here.

I love coming home.  It feels complicated but isn’t – it’s just a simple place with a lot of history.  I love having my boy here, getting all the benefits of having grandparents who just couldn’t love him more.  He’s getting to shoot a bow and arrow, as well as a gun, he’s getting to swim his heart out with his Auntie Kellene who is the definition of fun, and totally getting spoiled when going shopping with his Grandmother who asks him, “Why choose??  Buy them all!” as she whips out her credit card.

His Auntie promptly splashed and dunked him after this photo was taken

I remain mostly in the background, watching my family, dysfunctional and funny but ultimately awesome, all living our future lives in the same setting as the past.  And it just feels good.  Coming home feels good.

8 thoughts on “Going Home

  1. That was you and Lori up on the hill? Shame, shame, shame!
    That was Kris and me up on the other hill a few miles down.
    Nothing says teenager like the thrill of sunbathing nude on some rocks.

    Say ‘HI’ to GJ for me….and enjoy the surreal-ness of being back in history-home.
    If you get a chance to tunnel run with Sheri, just yell my name out in the darkness and my life will be complete :)

    Oh, and give my congratulations to yer mom for me!

  2. The glow-in-the-dark stars…
    My husband and I are currently renting my childhood home from my parents. My brother’s old room still has one wall of airplane wallpaper and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. This made me think of that and think how awesome it would be if we end up staying here, to one day be able to tell my (currently unborn) children that those stars on the ceiling are the same stars that their Uncle looked at when he was little.

  3. I find it more than odd that we seem to be having similar experiences at similar times. Old friends indeed! Just having returned home after a three week jaunt I cannot get over the fact that the visit was more sweet than bitter for a change and that I slept in my high school room and thought long and hard about my life choices and the stickers still on the mirror. I think it is a gift and a blessing that you have this time to reflect on everything in your life with Roan standing right by your side and the bookends in your belly. You have a rare ability to look around you and record your experiences in great detail and in wonderful form. Treasure it as your readers treasure the sneak peeks. Great stuff!

    P.S. sorry for the long babbling but I feel like this is a weekly phone call to you in the comment section and a phone call I love to make. Travel safe!

  4. Well Dotty and Jodi, I was home too. My bedroom is the kids room. I sleep in my brother’s room now, that has been equipped with a full bed and a wallpaper border with quilt squares or cottages or something on it. I still have rainbow declas on the windows of what was once my room. Two of them. 1982 at its best. My daughter sleeps in a crib in the room where I filled my diaries with angst and yearning and it’s odd. And wonderful. And unsettling. I too feel like I’m going to round the corner and literally run into my bespectacled, braces-ed fifteen year old self. I miss her.

  5. Pingback: Pistols and Popcorn » As It Turns Out, I Love That Guy

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