You Can 'Go Home' Again

I visited with old friends of the family yesterday. We were brought together by happenstance, but it ended up being yet another one of life's little blessings.

I have a long time, near and dear friend that 'married into my family' in a long, round about way. She actually married my brother-in-law's cousin. So we aren't really related, but we now have ties that connect us beyond friendship. It is an amazing coincidence.

Yesterday, we celebrated this friend's milestone birthday. I walked into a room, where the first people I met (after the guest of honor) were these long time friends (and in-laws) of the family. We are connected not only by that familiar prairie road highway, but our family is connected in a myriad of ways. In small town communities, families and connections are so intertwined that it becomes confusing to those on the outside, looking in.

We talked easily of the past, present and future. We know all the same people. You refer to people by names, not titles when you have such a connection. As I recounted some of my stories, I was actually astounded in the many ways my present day life is still very much intertwined with my prairie roots.

I have been intermittently working on my dad's family history and I had just dusted off the idea and revisited it once again, the evening before I ran into these friends. Sitting and chatting with them reminded me of the feeling of 'coming home' that I get each and every time I actively put my mind to this project.
 
I am being drawn into my family, my roots, connections and the overwhelming sense of knowing I am on the path that I was destined to be on.
 
I can vividly remember my nine-year-old self quietly sobbing as we drove West and moved to our new home 41 years ago.
 
I remember my ten-year-old self vowing that I would become a teacher and move back to my Home Town when I grew up.
 
I remember when I revisited that 'home' at the age of 26. I had married a man and was living a life that was so far from the life I grew up in, that I felt like a foreigner within my own family.
 
The turning point in my life when at age 27, I packed up my children and physically moved back 'home'. Emotionally, I was still far from being back to the place that I knew.
 
Putting together Mom's family's story three years ago started me down a path, that has taken me places that I have never been/yet have always been. At age 47, I was finally starting to feel like I belonged within my family unit. Talking with them, hearing their thoughts, feeling the essence of my family ... I finally, finally started to see how they were a part of me as much as I was a part of them.
 
This latest journey - the journey which I fear I don't want to end (thus the reason I am dragging my heels perhaps??), is the most rewarding of all.
 
In talking with my dad's family, I am finding 'Dad' where I least expect him. He has come to life within the hearts, souls and beings of his family.
 
As I drive down these prairie roads of my past, I know that I have finally come home again. I'm here to stay.