Over the years I visited home; family celebrations and final goodbyes. Always fleeting, but a couple of years ago my brother and I decided to spend some time visiting our seaside hometown. We walked for miles through the sand dunes. I’d spent my formative years tearing through the sharp marram grass, earning tiny scars on my ankles. We visited our Grandparents graves, our childhood home by the beach. We ate hot, salty chips on the promenade.
But most importantly we had a deep conversation about ‘home’, the people we had loved and how we felt about leaving this place and returning. As we drove back to the Lakeland fells I was very upset, sobbing in the car. I was upset because I thought it would have all stayed the same, my romantic view of my past, frozen in time. But of course everything looked and felt different, people had moved on, relatives had relocated to the city. I think I may have been a little naive and perhaps a little hopeful.