'Walking my great grandson in his stroller today where he lives, in my hometown, Fairport Harbor, Ohio, and walked past the only "home" I've ever known while "growing up". (sigh)
Walking past my old house
Born and raised my roots hold
Heart skipped a beat
Times were rough house was sold
Running in upstairs hall
Boyfriends names on the wall
Front porch hot evenings
My fortress never old
Gardens care taken of
Rose garden fence of love
Home's where the heart is
'twas always enough
'HOME'. WHEREVER THAT IS FOR EACH OF US...IS A GOD-GIVEN PLACE OF WONDERFUL, PRICELESS...PEACE. IF 'REST FOR THE WEARY MIND' CANNOT BE FOUND THERE...THEN IT'S NOT 'HOME'. AMEN. THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATION
The house I grew up in, went on the market for sale a few yrs. back. I scheduled a showing with the agent. I told him I just wanted to go through the house for old times. It was a real letdown for me. The place had been let go and was in sad shape. The same goes for the 1st place my wife and owned. We took great pride in that place, and now it looks like a dump. For me, home might be where the heart is, but the old saying holds true. You can't go home. Glad it was a better experience for you.
Been there; done that. It is very moving to return to the place where one has grown up, all the hopes and fears resurrected. Your poem captures some of the mood of nostalgia. John
nice to go back and revisit your old home, the old life. The past is best rose-tinted and nostalgic. Good memories growing up in the old house. I can relate as I have cycled past my old home and thought about the old days and the friends and families on our street.
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