When I was younger I realized the meaning of the phrase, "You can never go home". In other words, things continue to change even while you're away and will never truly be the same again. It saddened me greatly as a young adolescent to come to that realization because I considered my "home" to be a rather magical place.
This past week I traveled back to Maine and spent time with both my family and a the myriad of memories that I still have. I was assaulted with smells, sights and sounds, rushing the past to the very forefront of my mind; piles of Autumn leaves, cool breezes through the birch trees, my mother's apple dumplings, each triggering a flood of memories that were like old friends who have not changed at all.
All of this made me re-think my paradigm of never going home, and I came to the comforting realization that you never really leave.