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“You can never go home.”

It’s an expression we’ve all heard.  And, in many ways, I believed that to be a truism of life until recently.  It seemed like an absolute.  Once you had left your past behind, there was no way to go back and reclaim it.  And, while on many levels it does have a ring of truth, it is not an absolute as I once believed.

This past weekend my wife and I took a planned jaunt down to Charlotte once again.  The original reason behind the trip had disappeared, but plans had been made so we decided to go anyway.  One of the big things planned was for us to have lunch with my dad.  This thought filled me with a stomach-churning mix of dread and hope.

For those who have not read the story in previous posts, I have recently begun to emerge from a self-imposed exile from my family that lasted the better part of ten years.  This was going to be the first time I had seen or spoken to my father in all that time.  It’s amazing what happens in a span of ten years.  Things change so quickly in our lives, but we barely notice because we are passengers of those changes.

The moment I arrived at his house, I knew all my thoughts about not being able to go home were based in false assumptions.  I was greeted with a warmth that was barely remembered anymore because of the intervening years.  I was home.  And, while it will take time for all the repairs to be made to the relationships of my family, a huge stride was taken this weekend.

I feel blessed to have been born into such a loving family.  I feel doubly blessed to be welcomed home with such enthusiasm after so many years.  It is a truly humbling experience.

For now, I will continue to try to make things right, because now I truly believe. 

Sometimes you can go home.

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