I’m born in a small town.
Left home when I was 13 years old.
I ran away 40 years ago and not once did I look back.
I’ve been running from everything that little town was to me, ’til now.
This summer I returned for the first time.
It’s a beautiful little town.
Old houses with beautiful architecture.
A little river running through.
There are squares, statues, parks, cafe’s and small streets and almost no cars.
The old church from the 1850’s placed on a hill and can be seen from everywhere.
A lot of trees, flowers and benches so one can take a break if needed.
Everything looks the same as it did 40 years ago.
The streets are strangely familiar.
It feels like a time machine.
Walking these old streets brings up many memories and emotions.
Some are good, but some are bad and still wakens the same emotions I felt as a young teenager.
In a way I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.
Scared, because I so desperately wanted to leave this place so many years ago.
Do more, be more, experience more than this small town ever could give me opportunities to fulfill.
Painful memories of not so kind classmates.
But at the same time it feels like home.
This is where I played with friends, went to my first day in school, learned to ride a bike, made my first snowman and learned to swim.
This is also the small town where I learned to love ice-hockey and the home team.
Do you know what happens if you’re licking on a lamp post with minus degrees Celsius, outdoors?
Yup….you get stuck.
A painful lesson.
This is also where I experienced my first love, S, and my first kiss.
So, what to do with all these mixed emotions?
Beautiful and painful memories at the same time.
Walking down the Memory Lane isn’t easy.
The bad can be painful.
But recalling memorable moments are very pleasant and beautiful.
An early morning walk changed the way I look at this place. It has everything I’m now longing for.
I’m very grateful for returning home.
For a little short time.