There’s a special feeling that comes over me whenever I go back to visit my hometown. It’s where I have most of my family and so many memories. A city that (even with its changes over the years) I can still trace in my mind, eyes closed, a million miles away from it. It’s the place that will always be “home” and I can definitely see myself moving back here someday.
When I got back to my hometown this time around, I took a walk through the streets that I know so well. The paths that holds so many memories and stories. But there’s more to the town. It’s also filled with ghosts. My ghosts. I like to look at my past events as ghosts. They definitely don’t have to be the haunting, scary kind of ghosts, but more the kind that lurks around in the shaddows. And from time to time I can see their eyes looking back at me and it brings back a very special kind of feeling.
I started writing a poem about this today, but it doesn’t feel right just yet. It will be up eventually, but I still wanted to write about it and share my thoughts on the subject.
I think all hometowns, no matter where or what size, is full of past ghosts. The memories, lost dreams and events from everyones past taking some kind of form in the cracks of pavement, the trees that grow and the buildings that changes. In some ways out of sight, out of mind, until you revisit them.
As I walked around I found out that even though I love my hometown, some of my own ghosts kind of scares me. They’re a reminder of some of the most difficult times in my life and having them stare me in the face can be quite hard. Sometimes they visit in no more than a slight shiver, and other times it’s like being smacked in the face with a heavy glove. Some ghosts are the wonderful kind, that embraces you in a careful wind, kisses you and the cheek and keep on walking. Some just likes to watch from far away. There are even some that I have a hard time recognizing for what they really are.
Every hometown ghost is a part of me and the path I went on to become who I am today, and I choose to be grateful for that. But there are times when I fear that my ghosts could turn into demons. And that might be the most terrifying part of coming back. What if my hometown should suddenly morph into something that feels strange and alien to me. What if the traces of streets and memories falls into darkness and gets replaced by something completely different? Would I still feel the same?