I got to go home on family day. Being home is hard now that it isn’t really “home” anymore. It’s strange to feel like a guest where you once a commoner. But after you get in the door and throw your bag on your old bed, things start to feel alright. There is nothing quite like dad’s cooking, or real orange juice (you know the stuff with the pulp that is too expensive for us students) or the Van Morisson playing in the kitchen.
Strangely when you’re back in old places with old friends you feel like your old self. “Revertigo” my friends call it. It’s when you act and speak and think like you do in your memories because that’s what is expected of you. It’s as if all the growth and character building and changes in your life never happened. It’s both a comfort and a curse.
On my way home one night after acting like a fifteen-year-old with fifteen-year-old friends I decided to walk my old Paper Route. I wound my way through the dim lit moss covered streets, keeping to my well engrained routine. From house to house I took the most efficient path, taking short cuts through bushes and over fences to save precious extra steps.
I remembered how I would leave my cart at a certain spot in the cul-de-sacs so as not to have to double back and get it before taking my next shortcut. I thought about all the monsters and warriors and bad guys I used to run into along the way. I used to imagine myself a different story every time. Super spy evading the mafia. Knight in armor guarding the town from evil. I would sneak and dash and roll and fight, The Oak Bay News as my trusty sword or silenced pistol. I must have looked really silly in any onlooker’s gaze… reliving the glory days.
With this nostalgia comes homesickness and often sadness, but it’s a treat sometimes too. A reminder of who you are and who you want to be. A reminder of where you started your journey.