and you really can. i know, because i've done it in a couple of ways.
when i was growing up i couldn't wait to move away from home. the cliche about fags and their mothers didn't ever apply, the first thing i did when i got a real job was to move to my own apartment. the part of town that i grew up in was semi-rural and my first apartment was in the middle of our downtown...i wanted as far away from the past as possible. for the next 20 years or so, i moved on an average of once a year. i had all sorts of apartments, from redneck hellholes to upscale prewar buildings but i never did feel comfortable.
when my mother died, i had just spent 5 years in college and i was without a job and broke, so i moved back into her house. talk about a shock to the system. but slowly, i started to relax and truly notice my surroundings. the tree that i got on arbor day in the first grade and planted in the woods near the house was still there, taller than the house now and it burst into blossom that first spring. i heard the owls that i'd grown up hearing at night and the bats that circled over the field next door at dusk were still circling. the house is on the edge of a hill overlooking a valley and that first year i'd sit at all hours, staring at the view i'd grown up with and listening to the trains that ran along the bottom. when i'd been asked as a small child what i was going to be when i grew up, my answer was a train...i was fascinated by them for as long as i remember and i'd always felt secure hearing them in the night. my body and soul were relaxing in ways i'd never expected. the woods i'd played in as a child were overgrown and i had a hard time pushing through the paths i'd run along as a child but all of the landmarks of my childhood were still there-the house where the appalachian family lived, way back a dirt road, that had burned down in the 60's, the house where crazy clara lived, who used to bring me box turtles every spring, on the edge of the park, the house where my best friend lived and who i never suspected would also grow up to be gay. the next winter after i moved in his brother, who i hadn't seen in decades, knocked on my door late one night to tell me that johnny had died and to invite me to a service for him at their church. i was shocked, to say the least and i asked gary if johnny had been ill long or was it sudden? he got embarassed and blushed and said, "well, he's been living in san francisco for the past seven years." enough said.
after a few years, i moved into the house next door which is twice the size of my childhood home. i can remember, as a child, the dining room window sill coming up to my chin when i was sneaking and looking into the neighbor's windows. they were an elderly couple who'd lived there since the 20's and i was fascinated..they were so old, at least in their 60's! i slowly bought up the surrounding vacant fields to preserve them. i've lived here ever since and i never want to move again. i'm close to 60 now and i have the same heart problems that old mr szukowski had when i was a first grader. the 50 steps up to my front door are just as steep as they were for him. i walk the neighborhood as therapy and it dawned on me the other day that i'd walked the same pavements on my way to first grade. i walked up to the elementary i went to, too. it looked so small. but the window was still there off of the playground where one hot november day the kids from the catholic school down the street hollered in to tell us that president kennedy had been shot and they's gotten out early. we got sent home shortly after and were told to run all of the way home, not to stop anywhere, because the russians might be dropping bombs on us at any moment. and now, 50 years later, the russians are powerless and it's my heart that might explode.
i've made arrangements that when i die, my ashes are to be scattered on the hillside on the side of my house, right around the rose bush i rescued when mrs. russells house was torn down a few blocks away. she was always proud of her roses and since i saved her bush, every spring it has been covered in shocking pink blooms that i've never been able to identify. i like the idea of spending eternity looking at that bush and listening to the trains down in the valley.
thanks for sharing!