For years, coming back to my hometown made me feel alien, like in a dream where everything was just slightly off. Like somebody came a rearranged my kitchen drawer while I was sleeping. Just wrong.
But now, twenty years later it, it changed. It didn’t become home again but a place that I felt a deep connection to. My friends and I are now parents. The places where we were young and stupid are no longer for us. But that’s okay.
I can never go back. Nor do I want to. But I understand my friends that stayed or returned. It wasn’t such a bad place after all.