Just yesterday started to seriously consider
returning to my home state to visit.
I haven't been there since my father died in 2000.
Then, it occurred to me...
since I was going all that distance,
why not stop in to see the town in which
I spent my childhood?
The idea of visiting this tiny town is intriguing, first
because never before now have I had
the resources or time to make this trip.
But, more importantly,
this feels to me as some kind of
completion.
It's been 38 years since I set foot
in that town.
Yet, it still haunts my dreams.
What I didn't expect in considering this journey
is the emotions it would trigger.
This is not just stepping back in time.
It is something more,
something fundamental,
raw, unfinished...
but what?
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