While in Scottsdale, AZ for training for work I had a night free. Since I lived in what used to be Higley, AZ for 17 years, and since it's been 6 years since I've last been through I decided to make a visit.
The new freeway takes you straight to the entrance of my old neighborhood, but regardless I got lost immediately. You wouldn't recognize the place! What used to be corn, cotton, or alfalfa fields is now filled with strip malls, fast food restaraunts, and WalMart and Costco.
Once I found my way to our old street the oddest sensation came over me. Suddenly I was home. I felt as if I had just re-entered my life after having taken a 9 year break. Rumplestiltskin-esque. My neighborhood changed only in the small details and a few additional homes. It was familiar and comfortable all at once.
It was hard to resist the urge to pull into the old driveway and go in the front door of our old home. I was sure that if I opened the front door I would find the rest of my family there enjoying the after-dinner conversation and activities. (I'm sure the new owners wouldn't have appreciated the intrusion).
Instead I drove two doors down to our neighbor's home. It was awesome to see everyone. They were expecting me, and seeing everyone for the first time in six years was amazing! Everyone had changed in some ways, but then they were all still the same. The rest of the evening was full of conversations running into and over one another as we re-discovered our friendships. The term "reunion" doesn't quite cover the event. "Homecoming" is a little closer, but it still leaves me unsatisfied. Is there a word in the english language that captures the feeling of these moments?
In the end it was hard to leave. I wanted to preserve the moment and to return things to the familiar pattern of what life in Higley had been like. For the first time in six years I thought seriously about moving back to AZ. Again I thought about just walking two doors down to head to bed, but the rental car out front brought reality quickly back into focus.
Driving back to the hotel was a blur (maybe in part because it was almost 1 am). Returning to reality wasn't unpleasant, but it took the entire drive to fully extricate myself from the delusions I had entertained. I know I'll be coming back though the timing is unsure at the moment.
It seems as though places absorb and store up emotions that we experience there. When we return they begin to release those emotions back to us. The road I lived on for 17 years had stored up all of the youthful energy, hope, restlessness, love, and peace I had experienced. When I returned last night, the lane was expecting me.
