Can You Ever Go Home? by Sheri McComb

They say you can never go home. I always wondered who “they” are and why they can’t go home. I found out last summer that you CAN go home, but it won’t be the same when you get there. 

I grew up in a small to mid-size town in Indiana. I was born and raised there and didn’t do too much traveling outside the state other than the short trips my family took every summer when my dad could get off work. I stayed there all through college, living at home and going to the local college. It was cheaper to live at home than on campus and I left with my degree and no debt, thanks to my parents. After I graduated, I was at loose ends, until I met James. 

It was my last day of college and I couldn’t wait for classes to end so I could “start my life.”  I didn’t know what that would look like, but I’d heard so many adults say it, that it had become my mantra, albeit one I didn’t really understand. Will my life start as I’m walking to the parking lot? Driving home? Walking into the house I shared with my parents? I wasn’t sure, but I was definitely ready for something to happen to my boring little life. 

I actually met James at the graduation dinner my parents held for me two weeks after I had my degree in hand. They had invited some of their friends and one couple from California brought their nephew who had tagged along with them. He was visiting a friend of his who had moved here during high school. James was unlike anyone I had ever met and I fell for him hard and fast. It was no surprise to my parents when he proposed after just six months and after the wedding moved me in with him at his house in San Jose. I was thrilled when I got a job there as a second-grade teacher. James was a successful architect and we enjoyed the perks of living in a big city. There was so much to do and I couldn’t believe the difference between San Jose and the city I’d grown up in. Because I was a teacher, I got breaks during the year that James didn’t enjoy with his career, so I learned to keep myself busy during those times when I wasn’t working. It was during my summer break this past year that I decided to go home and visit my family and friends in New Haven, Indiana.

The day I left for Indiana was overcast and warm. James kissed me good-bye as I got out of the car at the airport where he’d dropped me off on his way to work. I would miss him, but I knew he was busy at work and would survive a week without me. Ticket in hand, I got on the 757 that would ferry me to Chicago for a layover until I caught the “puddle jumper” to Fort Wayne, Indiana, where my parents would be waiting for me. New Haven was a subsidiary of Fort Wayne, but too small to have its own airport.

I stepped off the plane in Fort Wayne that June morning. It was hot and humid, about 87 degrees which was hotter than it usually was this time of year. I went from the oppressive outdoors into the chilly air conditioning of the airport and spotted my parents immediately. I hadn’t seen them since Christmas when they’d flown out to San Jose.  That had become our tradition, as I hadn’t made it home to New Haven in the last twelve years. I looked around the airport thinking it had shrunk since I’d been here. When I mentioned to Mom how small it looked, she told me they’d actually added on since I’d been here, almost doubling the size. We collected my baggage and Dad brought the car around. Soon we were on our way to their house in New Haven.

I looked out the window as we drove through the streets, thinking how different it was than San Jose. While Mom-chatted on about what she’d been up to and what she had planned for my visit, I watched the slow-moving traffic and the businesses we passed. They looked smaller than I remembered. 

“Did you hear me, Curly top?” Mom asked me, using my childhood nickname. It beat her calling me Shirley Temple because of my spiral locks. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked her. She was looking over the seat at me smiling.

“I said your sisters are coming for dinner tonight. I’m making your favorite, spaghetti and meatballs,” she answered me.

I smiled back. “Yum!” I said. She turned back to the front as we pulled into their driveway. I looked at the house I’d grown up in, as I got out of the car. It was a modest ranch in a middle-class neighborhood. It was a ranch on a basement with a huge backyard. It had a two-car garage that Mom and Dad never used because of all my dad’s equipment for his landscaping business. The house was a saltbox design and had white vinyl siding with pine green trim around the windows. I noticed they had painted the front door to match the trim. Mom’s flower garden around the front porch was in full bloom. The landscaping in front of the house had been done by Dad’s company and looked spectacular as usual. There were arborvitae bushes, burning bushes, lilacs, and all kinds of annuals that were lush and blooming in beauty. I was picturing the inside of the house in my mind, but was especially anxious to wander to the back yard where my childhood swing set and sandbox would be.  I also couldn’t wait to see my childhood room. It had been a haven for me growing up. 

Dad opened the trunk to get my bags and waved me toward the house letting me know he’d get them. I linked my elbow through Mom’s and we walk into the house together. Looking at her I couldn’t believe how much she’d aged since I’d moved away years ago. It made me sad seeing her slightly stooped petite figure and grey hair. Time was marching on and I hugged her to my side as if to protect her from the life clock ticking inside of her.

As soon as we walked inside, I could smell the spaghetti sauce, a familiar smell from my childhood. My sisters Anna and Emily walked out of the kitchen with arms outstretched and smiling faces. We hugged as a threesome as we always had as kids. I hadn’t seen them for two years, the last time they’d flown out to visit. We had a special bond that nothing could break, even though we were spaced five years apart; Anna the eldest, then Emily, then me. I looked at the dining room table set for five and looked at my siblings questioningly.           

I looked at Anna. “Where are Dave and the boys?” I asked. Then I looked at Emily, “Where is Charles?” Em’s face fell and Anna put her arm around here protectively. 

Anna answered for both of them. “Dave and the boys went to visit Dave’s parents for a week. They left this morning. Charles,” she looked at Emily with compassion, “has decided he needs a ‘break’.” I thought she muttered something under her breath like I’d like to give him a break, but I couldn’t be sure. 

Emily put on a smile and patted Anna’s arm gratefully. “Que sera sera,” she said in an offhand way, but I could see she was hurting.

“Well,” I said matter of factly. “That means I have you two all to myself. And Mom and Dad,” I said quickly as I saw Mom look at me. “We’ll have a ball,” I said putting one arm around Mom and the other around Em. “I’m starving,” I said then, and everyone laughed as we all pitched in to get dinner on the table.

After dinner, I helped with the dishes, in spite of Mom’s protests. “I was raised to help out,” I joked with her and she joked right back, “You must have had a great mom.”

When everything was done, I told them all I wanted to wander around a bit and just relax. Anna and Emma both left, promising to return in the morning so we could spend some time together. I walked down the hall to my old bedroom and walked in, turning on the light. It was still painted a light lavender and had the same hardwood floors. The lace curtains were the same as was the twin bed with the bedspread to match the curtains. I sat down on the bed gingerly, thinking how small the room looked. I looked at the corner where my vanity used to be, where I would sit for hours trying out makeup and just looking at my reflection wondering if the boys thought I was pretty. The vanity was gone and in its place was Mom’s sewing machine sitting on a small wooden stand. There were random pieces of fabric and boxes of thread under the table. It looked like Mom had been busy making things.  I walked over to look out the window that faced the big back yard I had played in as a girl. After glancing outside, I decided to go out there instead and walked down the hall to the back door. I stepped out onto the back porch and noticed immediately that the “little” sweet gum tree I’d planted as a girl scout was now towering over the house. I walked out into the soft grass and approached my swing set. I stood in place looking at it; the rusted metal structure, the now rusty looking swings and the chains hanging down. It looked like Dad had installed new chains because they were shiny silver, unlike the rusted framework. He probably did it for Anna’s boys who were now 11 and 14. I wanted to sit on one of the two swings, but was afraid the rusty seat wouldn’t hold my bulky form. The swing set looked so tiny and not as I remembered. I stood there thinking back to Anna, Em, and me pushing each other higher and higher on the swings, laughing as we felt like we were flying. Now it just looked like an old rusted piece of metal, barely holding together.

I looked to the left and there was my sandbox. Dad had built it out of 2 x 12’s and filled it with brown packing sand. I walked over and sat on the edge noticing that my plastic pail and shovel were still in the sandbox. I sat there and filled the pail with sand using the shovel and then packing it down tight. I flipped the pail over like I’d done as a child and pulled the pail off the mound of sand that was now in the shape of the pail. I looked around at the rest of the yard. The trees were towering and there were so many that Mom used to call our backyard the “park”. The trees had provided shade in the summer and leaves to rake and jump into in the fall. Right now, the shade felt pretty good on this humid evening.  The yard didn’t seem as big as I had thought as a young girl.  I smashed the sand tower I’d made, pushing down with my hand until it was flat again. I laughed to myself and went back inside. Tomorrow was going to be fun!

The following morning after breakfast my sisters showed up ready to have some fun.  Mom had a dental appointment, so wouldn’t be joining us until late afternoon. We kissed her goodbye and headed out the door. Anna was driving and Emily let me ride shotgun. It was cooler today so we had the windows rolled down, our hair blowing in the breeze. Anna asked me, “Where to?” and I told her I wanted to go to the bowling alley where we had hung out as teenagers. She complied and when we pulled into the parking lot, I was shocked.

“What happened?” I said. “It looks so run down!”

Anna answered, “It just got taken over by new owners. They haven’t started fixing it up yet. Wanna go in?” she asked.

“Is it even open?” I asked skeptically. It looked like a shabby version of the hopping hangout I remembered. As we exited the car, I pictured myself along with my three besties from high school, pretending to bowl while we checked out the cute guys. I laughed to myself. We walked in the door and I stopped, closing my eyes. I breathed in the scent of pizza, floor wax, and bowling shoes that transported me back in time. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I saw that it was nearly empty. There was a man wiping down counters and he stopped and came over with a friendly smile.

“Help you?” he asked. “We just opened, but the pizza oven isn’t turned on until 11:00 he said looking at his watch.

“We just came to reminisce,” I said glancing around. “It looks almost the same as it did twenty-five years ago.”

“Yep, needs updating. We’ll get ‘er done,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything. Lanes are open,” he said returning to his chore of cleaning countertops.

We smiled and I gestured toward the door, indicating I was ready to leave. We walked out to the car and got in.  We decided to drive by some of my old friend’s houses where I’d spent countless hours doing homework and gabbing. All of my good friends had moved away. I wasn’t sure if their parents were still here. I’d let us drift apart as happens sometimes with childhood friends. We’d been driving for several hours.

“I’m hungry,” I announced. “Can we eat at Clyde’s?” I asked hopefully. I was remembering how good the food was. My friends and I used to go there after school and have ice cream sundaes. I was going to order the Turtle Cow that I always did. After a sensible meal, of course. I also remembered their big Clyde Burger that was dripping in toppings and juices. I’d been watching my weight in anticipation of this visit, so it was okay to splurge. We pulled up to Clyde’s and I looked at the façade in disappointment. 

“Where’s the big ice cream sign?” I asked. “I was looking forward to seeing it.”

My sisters looked at me. Emily said, “I keep forgetting you haven’t been here in a long time. That sign was vandalized years ago and they had to tear it down.”

I looked at the sign they’d put in its place. It was much smaller. ‘Okay, hopefully the food is just as good,’ I was thinking to myself. We went in and sat in a booth. I looked around at the faded booth seats and the cracked floors. 

“Wow,” I said. “It used to be bigger, didn’t it? And wasn’t there a jukebox in that corner?” I asked pointing to the nearest one.

“Nope, not smaller” Anna said. “It’s the same size it was when you left. The jukebox was taken out years ago.” 

I picked up the menu feeling disappointment. It had changed, too. No Clyde Burger, no Turtle Cow, nothing I remembered. My feeling of melancholy went deeper. I didn’t say anything to my sisters, just placed my order.

“Why are you so quiet?” Anna asked me. Both my sisters were looking at me in concern.

“I thought it would be the same. Everything is different.” I put my elbows on the table and propped my head up. My sisters both patted me.

Em said, “It’s not different. YOU are. You’ve outgrown this small town.”

I nodded my head in agreement. “You know what I haven’t outgrown?” I asked. My two sweet sisters waited for my answer. “YOU!” I said laughing. “Let’s eat!”