Song of My Returning.

So for the past few weeks I’ve been on the move. Zipping from one city to the next, barely pausing for a story festival and a 15 hour project.

Action has been the word of the day, and it’s been sponsored by the letter B and the Awesome Corporation

The motion really began with a trip to Ocean City, New Jersey. Both Gabrielle and I had been dying for a vacation, and on a whim decided to make the journey. So, with our hopes of relaxation tucked firmly in our bathing suits, we packed up the plane and flew out.

To be honest, I didn’t really know what to expect from returning to Ocean City. I hadn’t even thought about going back there since we had the lunch honoring Mom. There’s so much of that town that’s tied up in memories of her. She was the one who first brought us there. She brought us there because it was a place that meant a great deal to her. It was a place that, as a child, she drew deep comfort and joy. Each summer we would make the seemingly eternal drive up the East Coast from South Carolina to New Jersey spurned on by her optimism and hope for another wonderful summer. And it always was.

All the same, when Mom died, I kind of put the whole place out of my mind. As if I could never really imagine going back there as an adult. Like it was locked into my childhood, and revisiting it now after all that’s happened would somehow bring a darkness to those memories.

I’m having trouble thinking about it and even more trouble expressing it, so I’ll just say that I was wrong.

It was incredibly empowering and therapeutic.

To be there, in that house, as an adult, made me feel more connected to those memories. It was reassuring to see that despite the flotsam and flux of the last half decade, that if nothing else, that house remains constant.

It made me feel more adult. As if I was a part of a tradition that spans generations, it’s a tradition that is so ingrained in me, that it’s impossible to separate. It’s a tradition that defines me as a part of a family. It’s a tradition that always begins with cooking Pasta on the first night.

There’s more to say. But like I say, I’m still having trouble thinking about it. When I get home I’ll post the pictures and the story I told at SKALD based on the experience.