So Sunny over there brings up an interesting point. Where do we belong? And at whose doors do we leave our hearts?
Last year about this time, we went and took a little road trip down to where I graduated from high school. It had been more than 10 years.... Had it not been for the street names, we would have thought we were on the moon. No clue where to find old friends (it was a "just because we have nothing better to do" kind of trip). So we played the part of tourists and just stared at everything. But I couldn't imagine myself moving back there; it was so far removed from where I am now. When I left it was all people moving in from Somewhere Else, or college students, or old people who, for some reason, got lost on the way to Florida and moved to NC instead... When we visited, it was more people from Somewhere Else, and more college students, and yet more old people to replace the old old people who'd died in the meantime. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
We didn't bother tracking down the family I have left living down there; too much trouble, and bad memories from school.
All in all, not a bad trip...the detour coming home made it all worthwile. Especially the look on Dent's face when he realized, indeed, I was not exaggerating. At least THAT place hasn't changed much; still the kingdom of tacky (perhaps with a new coat of paint, but still an old standby)
But the point: I feel like an alien in my own skin. Or a visitor in my own home. Where do I belong?