The Homecoming

When is tomorrow?

How long is a lifetime?

Does History every repeat itself?

        A sleeping man woke up to realize that the seasons had changed. Although he thought that he was only oblivious for a short time. He was startled when he began to grasp how much time had truly passed. No longer was it the winter of his discontent, nor the springtime of his youth, even the season spent along the shore had passed him by. He was awakened in the midst of the season of changes. This was the time of year the Canada geese were heading south and the squirrels were packing it in for the winter. This was the harvest season. The tree's splendor had passes from the rich greens to the deep ambers of a fading campfire. He is reminded that nothing stays golden forever.

        He had found himself on the road less traveled on his way to a cabin in the woods. The journey there would be an exhausting one with many detours along the way. In the urgency to reach the place of peace he had to first endure the place of twists and turns, stopped traffic, and U-turns. It was truly a drive of hurry up and stay still.

            He would travel on familiar byways, but, the destination would be a unique one. The times are not often that one actually gets to travel down memory lane. Today  he would leave his known life behind and travel back to his childhood home. It is amazing how he had forgotten the sheer beauty of the place where he grew up. Forgotten were the majestic miniature mountains, the deep dark valleys, the forgotten coal towns, the crumbling cathedrals; the beautiful babbling brooks. Almost gone were the graveclothes  of his past. He is amazed at the wonder of it all.

        Have you ever taken the long road home, or stopped along the way to take a picture because you knew you'd never see this moment again? Have you ever been visited by déjà vu? Today would be such a day for this sojourner. Passing by the exit for his parent's house he hopes they are of good cheer and well rested. He passes the mall where he had been a waiter wondering if any of his "regulars' remembered him. He travels past the shopping centers and the strip malls, past the four-lane highways, beyond the boundaries of his known existence and his civilization.

               He finds himself in a place that time had forgotten. A place where the corner market closes before the sun sinks below the horizon. A place where you can buy milk and eggs at the local truck stop along with the local gossip. A place where you are known by the parents you keep. A place where you are a stranger if you have an out of state license plate. A place that the Yuppies call charmingly quaint.

            As he nears his destination he takes a spin through the town where his relations used to abide, but until now forgotten by him. The traces of their home are all swept under the newly carpeted lawn. He does a double take still expecting them to be out on the porch awaiting his arrival. How odd to have a place disappear without a trace. How strange to be so close to home, yet, still an eternity away. The last time he passed this way he was sure it would be his last.  But, sometimes you really do pass this way again.

                As he drives on he feels like a little boy looking out the back window of his parents old car. He recognizes the landmarks he had no recollection of knowing. He hears his sister in the seat next to him saying, "Are we there yet? "and "Stay on your own side" as he drives on alone. He wonders who left this child in as he drives on trying to remember the directions he has been given.

               In these parts one must look closely as not to miss the turn off, driveways here are hidden among the undergrowth, dirt roads are hard to distinguish from the field roads, and streets slither to-and-fro as snake seeking a sunny stone.  He tries to drive responsibly has not to draw attention to himself as we've all heard stories about the local authorities eager to pull over any "out-of-towners" .  That must be the ironwork bride that he is sure not to miss as the mint green paint decomposes into the water below. He ever so slowly inches on seeking the hidden driveway, long neglected and unaware of its importance. It is unelected how quickly the time has come for him to be back in the company of friends. Time weaves strangely when one is lost in thought.

                 One always wants to come home to a candlelit cabin caressed in comfort, but, rarely is one given the fulfillment of their desires. Though the weather be frigid outside he is warmed by the smiles from his friends. A heart cannot stay cold hardened that has known the total acceptance of a loved one. The times are too few and far between that one gets to be with the ones they love. There is a pricelessness to simple pleasures: a clear starlit night, a smooth crystallized stream, a perfectly colored sunset, or golden rays on Autumn trees, a child's kiss, a lover's touch, a quiet afternoon, a still breeze, a glass of red wine, a walk in the woods, a virgin snowfall, a musical interlude, a welcome basket, or a  herb bouquet.

            As everyone settles in, he cannot but help imagine what 'heaven' will be like. He imagines a place where there is no more sadness, disease or separation. A place where we will be truly loved and we will love purely. A place where time and distance doesn't matter. A place of unspoiled beauty and unhampered relationships. A place of no darkness, lies or hatred. A place with no secrets or alternative motives. A place of total peace and tranquility. A place of only smiles and no frowns. A place of restored hope and reissued freedoms. A  place of unstained souls and unsurpassed joys.

            But for the time being he is not allowed to dwell among the clouds and he is called back to the 'fallen world'. He must detach his wings and go back to the land of the living.  He stops to steady himself and to bask in the warmth of such lofty thoughts and surrenders himself to slumber, realizing that 'heaven is here on earth'.