I can't go home; <br />even if I do <br />because that me going home <br />would be expected <br />to be <br />someone I haven't been in so very long. <br /> <br />How to be with family and friends <br />who constantly want to talk about <br />that young kid <br />who's long since moved on. <br /> <br />Out of klndness and memory <br />I play along <br />and let them <br />brag and fawn <br />over a person <br />long gone <br />into the forward years <br />while they look back <br />into what for you <br />is only the dimly remembered. <br /> <br />I told my mother to dismantle my room <br />dismantle the museum <br />keeping it that way, I said, <br />was inappropriate and too tempting <br />because I don't have the luxury <br />of looking back <br />while I am trying to move on. <br /> <br />So home is somewhat like an old love affair <br />nice while it lasted <br />but something which needs to be outgrown <br />as the truth is <br />one can never really <br />go back home <br />unchanged <br />from what was <br />then <br />the hurt in Mom's eyes <br />not withstanding.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-was-4/
