They say you can’t go home again and I’m not sure why! We
bought my childhood home from my parents and lived there with our family for
eleven years. I stopped there last week when I was in the neighborhood to look
for cuttings from a lilac bush. Unfortunately the bushes had been torn out, but
it was fun to visit the premises and meet the latest owner.
Why do you think there’s a saying, “You can’t go home again”?
Is it because you’re not the same person you were growing up there? Bad
memories? Needing to put the past behind you? Hmm . . .
This week’s writing
prompt: He stood on the sidewalk facing his past, the home he’d grown up
in. The wind stung his cheeks, even as the windows glistened in the sunshine. Walking
up the path to the house he decided . . .
 |
| My childhood home, but the beautiful canyon stone and brick were painted over by the next owner. |
he wished his cousin still lived next door. Her welcome had always been guaranteed no matter who he'd married, divorced, or remarried. The only censure she had ever shown was his inability to stop smoking. He wondered if his bedroom still smelled of tobacco.
ReplyDeleteNice job, Rohn! Thanks for stopping by. I love how one hundred people could use this prompt and all write a different scenario! Creativity at work!
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