There was a time when I was stuck like glue to my family, our events, to any and every crisis, to our religion and dramas.
By leaving the place of birth and making Colorado home (over 35 years), the place I think of as home has disappeared. Gone are the grandparents, parents and siblings. Some died and some moved away. Gone is the home where you could always find a place to sleep, food to eat and usually a cigarette burning.
Now, to visit the folks means a trip to the cemetery and an afternoon of weeding and planting new flowers.
When I return to the old haunting grounds, it’s usually a feeling of wanting to return home, to Colorado that sits with me.
The wide open spaces, blue skies, sunshine, mountain views and peaceful feelings remind me that I am home.
Now, I’m stuck like glue to Colorado.
7 thoughts on “Stuck like glue”
I love Colorado; one of my favorite vacation places. I have a brother living in Fruita. Hope to visit again someday. Beautiful country.
This was so sad!
But definitely a truth of life…
We always feel closest to our birth place. I was born in Tehran, Iran but have lived in the Illinois for 17 years. And yet Tehran will always have a special place in my heart.
Colorado is definitely a beautiful State.
I hope you can visit here soon too! Fruita is where we get our Western Slope Peaches — they’re the best ever!
Thanks for your comment!
When I hear the word home, I think of the place I grew up and went to school. When I am there visiting though, I look longingly to the west to be back “HOME”.
I guess we’re lucky to have different places that call to us in such a special way, huh?
Interesting post! It goes to show how different we all are — I was never stuck like that to family … whatever little family I had.
Now, that I’ve been away for seven years, I’m homesick every now and then, in a strange kind of way. It’s not necessarily people I’m longing for … it’s the town itself and the country too. I know it would be very different and strange to come home to now … things change all the time.
It will always be ‘home’, though…
Where ever I lived was ‘home’ but Jamaica was always ‘home, home.’ Even though the people who made it home, home are no longer there, it still holds very special meaning for me. Most importantly, the house where I grew up is still there.
Thanks for this post, Marge!
The house I grew up in is still there and I drive by it each time I return. Actually, most times I park my car in the neighborhood and then slowly retrace some of the walks I took back then.
One thing I did was drive my car from my house to school. It was a 1 1/4 miles. Any route I took turned out to have the same mileage .(1 1/4 miles) drats, I thought for sure it was MANY MILES away.