Return

Back.

After thirty six years, I've learned a few things about myself. One of them is my drive to return again and again to the moment or place of injury, to peel away the scab, and then to wonder why I am covered in scars. It is something I'm learning to accept.

I'm slow to learn a lesson.

This was no less true of my weekend trip. I returned to my usual habit of letting family dictate my time. That meant I saw the least the people that I wanted to see the most (you know who you are you movie watching, french fry eating, soda drinking friends). My family has a way of saying "do what you want to do" that screams "please want to spend all of your time with me." On the other hand, I saw during this trip that I am closer to the scar than the scab.

For a few photos, go to Flickr.

So I return to my safe four walls. I return to the dissertation work. This task, like so many in my life, requires multiple lather, rinse, and repeats. Such is the expectation for many of life's requirements. More scars, I'm sure.

On the other hand: if "we can't go home again" maybe we should re-think what we call home. As much as I have (and will) complain about this house and this town, I'm glad to have returned here.

Note: Sometimes I foolishly type a blog directly into blogspot. Sometimes I don't save as I go. This was the case today. So I had to re-write this blog because somehow I lost it when I tried to spell check it. Return to the beginning. Start again. Yes, I am a slow learner. Or maybe I needed to write this one twice.

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