John Levine shares about his struggles to reconnect with family and friends when returning home.
I went “home” this summer to reconnect with my past. That wasn’t my original intention, but as my wife and I put together our itinerary, it became apparent that our stops along the East Coast all touched on places I’d spent time or people I’d known.
Thomas Wolfe famously stated that “you can’t go home again,” which I always took to mean that the home you yearn for is not the home that exists so many years later.
We began our trip in New York City and stayed not far from the apartment building I lived in with my parents from the time I was born until I was three years old. We walked to that building, where I expected to feel an air of familiarity. But I felt…nothing. We walked a few more blocks to the park I played in – I even went over to the swings my mother used to push me in. (Though, I refrained from swinging in them.) I still felt…nothing. The next day, we took the train to New Jersey to spend some time with my siblings, and although it was nice to see them, the nostalgic feeling I thought I’d feel in their presence never surfaced.
Finally, we drove up to Maine where I spent many glorious summers with a favorite aunt. Since I hadn’t been back to Maine since I was a teenager, I was pretty confident that I’d be overcome with nostalgia. But that didn’t happen.