There’s something about going home to the place you were raised, to the place that shaped you, that just settles you. You had no idea that you’ve been vibrating out of your skin, barely containing yourself, until you pull onto that familiar road, see the sun peeking over the roof of your childhood home, and just feel a deep contentment settle in your bones.
You never think it’ll be like this when you’re growing up. You’re in a such a rush to be an adult, to make your own rules, and to be your own person. You forget to look at what you’re leaving behind in the process.
Clearly, whoever said ‘you can’t go home again’ never tried. Nothing compares to the realigning of flesh and bone, the sudden stillness, the intense comfort associated with the sight of your childhood home, your mother’s smile, your sister’s laugh. There’s nothing like home.