I recently read several novels in which someone had to move back—unwillingly and for various reasons—to their hometown. I also have a friend who has lived in numerous cities throughout the country, and who says she’d never want to revisit the place where she grew up, because she’d likely be depressed over how much it has changed since then.
“You can never go home again,” states a famous phrase, and that certainly corroborates my friend’s feelings. I understand and accept that time marches on, and you can’t return to the past as you knew it. Still, I feel differently about going back to the place where I grew up.
Maybe it’s because I still have a sister living there, and we visit her every year or so, usually on our way up to see our grandkids. Whenever we do go “back home,” we often drive past houses and neighborhoods where we used to live before moving out of the area for good. We touch base with friends and other family members still living there, and we visit the cemetery where my parents, another sister, and other relatives are buried. It’s sad, yes, but also comforting.
Perhaps the reason this is on my mind now is that my husband and I are going to be visiting another place we called home for several years, and where I’ve still got a really close friend whom I haven’t seen in a long time. We’re looking forward to the visit, and I’m excited about visiting the area and seeing some of the landmarks and locations I remember from decades ago. I know that some things will be drastically different from the way I remember them, and they’ll probably tug at my heartstrings. Still, I’m looking forward to it all.
Yes, time marches on. But memories can stay, and friendships can strengthen over time. Another famous saying tells us that home is where the heart is, and that’s the one I believe in most strongly.
And, as Dorothy discovered by the end of my favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz, there’s no place like home.
August 26, 2026
©Betty Liedtke, 2026
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