A Journey Home 3

This final part is a little bit different as I’ve officially begun The Journey. No photos. Not too long. Most of you have been around the USA, so you know a thing or two about the places I went there.

I sit at a KFC in Malaysia now after having eaten a local menu item: Green Chili Crunch. A nice mild kick, at about half the crunchiness of Extra Crispy in the USA. The various layers of flavor were… wait wait wait, I can talk about chicken later, I still need to discuss my time in New York, albeit briefly.

I spent about two weeks total in Syracuse, NY while in the USA, split into two parts. That place is chock full of memories! But when revisiting the memories fade slightly. Not because I’ve lost them from my mind, but rather because the Phoenix/Syracuse that made them up morphs a little each time. The schools I spent more than a decade at upgrade, the stores I would go to close, the priorities of friends change, my mall is a little darker, and everything as a whole becomes less recognizable. Each time I find my way back there I find a part of myself yearning to recreate memories that were made. Each time I find my way back there, the time it takes me to realize that that’s impossible shortens.

It doesn’t stop me from making new memories, however! On our trip back from Minnesota we stopped at my Godmother Gay’s house in Eire, PA. Prior to six months ago, it had been years since I’d done that, and I’ve changed significantly as a person since my youth. I have a different appreciation for the environment and how to interact with it. I’m more adult. The stories that get passed around fill the rooms with anything from breathless laughter to deep insightful conversation. Breakfast is always amazing and I love the subtle catharsis that comes with being able to engage the adults there as an equal, and not as the child role I’d always seen myself in when I went there as a… well… child. It’s a great time and I love going.

Beyond that I visited all my old haunts. Aaron and Kris always give me a place to hangout while providing hours of entertainment. I went to see Fort Ontario and all the crew still hanging on there to share my life with them. And home is home. It always will be. Mom busying herself with this or that while General Hospital plays in the background. Dad comes back after work and demands the TV change from something other than reality shows (I can’t blame him). We all chat. The pool is used. The cat’s are pet. Wildlife, including Squirrels, Birds, Raccoons, Turkeys, Deer, and even a Heron, come to visit the yard. Of all the places in my home town, home has probably changed the least, and while some might think that boring, I always find a bit of relief that it’s the same.

The most momentous thing that happened was probably the meeting of the boys. Bryan, Mike, and Chad. Those three hadn’t been in the same room in four years – a shockingly long time considering we saw each other daily for nearly ten years straight. When we aren’t together, I often think of them and make a little wish for their health and prosperity since I can no longer help facilitate it by being in their life regularly. Sometimes that feeling can be difficult to get across to them, but I like to think that deep down they know it and in their own ways, do the same for me. Bryan said it himself within ten minutes as we all gathered at his family’s camp to celebrate Bob’s 60th birthday: “I love how we’re not acting as if we haven’t seen each other in four years. It’s like nothing happened.”

I began these three entries discussing how Home is maybe not as simple of a concept as just a place. Of course my parents house is the default “Home.” But in the time I spent in America, I got to see so many other sides to that word. I only lived in LA for three months back in 2015, but this time around I was welcomed in with open arms and treated as if I had been there for years. I haven’t lived in Minnesota since last century, yet when I visit I am overcome with feelings of warmth and family the same as anyone would feel when they visit Home after living elsewhere for a time. And not only does that feeling come with the places I visit, but the people there to. Andy and Stev(i)e are family, and never fail to deliver on that feeling despite long stretches of time where we don’t see one another and responsibilities make demands of us. Gay opens her home and gives real meaning to the phrase “Mi casa es tu casa.” Mike and Bryan are brothers despite the time or distance now factored into our relationship, but as we come together those factors melt away. Everyone I’ve met on my Journey Home helped make a memory while evoking those of old. Chelsea, Kyle, John, Mary, Bill, Diane, Cathy, Cathy Lee, Amy, BK, Andrew, Kelsey, Peter, Paul, Chris, and many more including those I was lucky enough to see while in Shanghai; they and those previously mentioned made my Journey worth writing about.

Maybe Home isn’t as simple as a place. Maybe Home is closer to a feeling brought to us by people, places, and the memories of our past.