This weekend we’re going to Indiana for my family reunion. There will be relatives there I haven’t seen for years – some for decades. It’s been over 25 years since I moved away. There will be aunts, uncles, cousins – my cousin’s children’s children! – it’s hard to wrap my mind around.
It’s comforting to think of going home. Being around people who have known me my whole life. People who know my history. People who love me because of who I am or even, just because I am. People who may not know my day to day life very well (although facebook has changed that somewhat), but who know ME. Know where I came from. Know my history. Share my past.
It’s something I took for granted when I lived there. Part of being young, I think, you don’t realize how special and fleeting the sense of love and acceptance that comes from being HOME can be. You grow up, you move on, you have your own family and you make your own home, but it’s different. It can be wonderful in its own way, but different.