Return to My Hometown

Last summer, my wife and I went to visit the town where we both grew up. We hadn't been there since we were married ten years ago. First, we went to the neighborhood where my wife spent her childhood. It hadn't changed very much. The house where she was born was still there, but it was now a different color. The same neighbors still lived next door. They were very glad to see Jane, and asked us to come in and have a cup of coffee. We learned about all the neighbors, old and new. Jane had a very good time. As soon as one question was asked, she would ask the next. "What happened to the Blacks who used to have the little yellow house on the corner?" "Who bought the old Johnson's place on the next block?" "Do Fred and the Whites still live down the street?" "What about Miss Burton who lived alone in the extremely big house around the corner?" Then we went to see the neighborhood where I grew up. What a disappointment! It was all changed. All the old houses I remembered were gone and in their place were some very modern ones. I didn't know any of the people who lived there. Someone has said that you can't go home again. Jane might not think so, but I believe this is true.