It’s been said that you can never go home again, because your hometown will inevitably change during your absence. If this bothers you, just imagine being a forest critter who comes back to the lovely meadow he grew up in only to find it replaced by a giant PetCo. You’ve got it relatively easy.
Recently I was driving near the center of the town I grew up in. I was heading to the grocery store to get something for my mom. I came up to a red light, stopped, and then turned right. But halfway into the turn I saw the barrier arms for a parking lot. This thing hadn’t been there when I was a kid. Someone had converted the street and not bothered to tell me.
Screw those high-school news-letters with updates on what graduates are now doing. No one cares that Ricky has just been made CEO of an insurance company. What we need is a newsletter revealing all the things they’ve built during our absence.
I hit the brakes and turned left. Then I forgot that the light was still red. I rolled through the intersection and heard someone shouting. I looked over and saw a bald guy with a huge mustache driving a town vehicle. He had both arms extended in a “What The Hell Pal?” gesture. He was screaming at me. I looked at the guy for a moment, trying to figure out if he was one of the back-row guys from one of my high-school classes.
I parked near the library, deciding to proceed on foot. But suddenly I needed to go to the bathroom. Heading into the library my need became an urgency. I picked up the pace as urgency morphed into a flat out emergency. Fortunately no one had messed with the library. The restroom was right where it had always been.
I rounded a corner saying “Oh god, Oh god” out loud. That’s when I saw the woman sitting a table right next to the restroom door. She was working on a laptop computer. When she heard my small cries of despair, she looked up. Our eyes met for a moment. Fortunately, I didn’t know her either.
I bolted past, wondering why anyone would put a workstation next to the restroom. That space should only be used to house things no one wants to read, like Sarah Palin books.
Yes, they’re right — you can never go home again. But when you do, no one recognizes you. So it’s probably all for the best.
Sometimes it’s really good that no one knows your name!
I don’t know Tom, a driving instructor who forgot that the light was red! 🙂