Been happily showing off my home where I grew up to a friend today, who put up with my excited anecdotes and interruptions with incredible good humour and grace. It made me realise just how important place is to me – perhaps because my closest family moved to greater glories so long ago. Other people have family reunions, I go and breathe “my” air, generally muttering at strangers driving past things like “How dare you even think about running me over, even though I am standing in the middle of the road. Don’t you know I live here?”
I don’t live there at all, of course. I may have deep roots, but I am uprooted – and am growing very happily in fertile ground elsewhere. Going home may be necessary, but it is more of a check – is it all still there? It is, and I am content.
And in other good news, Grandad’s clock is mended!