Home Town

by Lori Dwyer on March 12, 2011 · 29 comments

This place is so tiny. It seemed so much bigger, growing up here, when I was a kid.

I took my shoes off before I turned in the main road into town, and i haven’t had need to put on them again since.

It took me just a few hours to start talking ‘local’ again. HomeTown (read betweeen the lines here, people) is just ‘Home’, kangaroos are roo’s, the (insert name here) Lake is just the lake.

Places are known by their broadest definition- pub, real estate, supermarket, beach- because their is no need to for any more detail than that. Streets are known by one name, Tradewinds or Sandpiper or River, and so are locals. Mostly, it’s their last. People, nice people with no agenda but friendliness and quiet curiousity, they ask me what I’m doing here, and I answer with my family name. That’s all that’s needed for me to be accepted, taken in. As much family as anyone else who lives here.

It’s slow and comfortable here. I know where I’m going without having to think about it, I know this place like the back of my hand.

Mostly. Things jump out and surprise me. A new street here, a much bigger house here. The house I grew up almost completley hidden by a massive pine that I used to shimmy up and down with my brother. I thought it was so very high, as a seven year old…. it mustn’t have been. It’s been twenty years and it’s only just the size of the two story house it hides.

A tiny reserve, a clearing with a rotting log that I played in as a little girl is completley gone, grown so far over I can’t even see where it once was. (The fairies who lived there are fine, I tell my five year old self, just fine.)

The perfect place to wait, I think. To be quiet and think and heal and write and give my children, especially my Chop, a chance to begin to heal too.

A few months, here. Back home. And we’ll see where we go, from then. What pans out. What fate has to throw at me this time.

I’m hoping for the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The broken part of me thinks it’s not even possible, not even real. I had been happy for so long, four really good years…. maybe I’ve used up my allotment.

Happiness… it never lasts long. How many times do I have to learn that?

Whatever. We’ll see. I feel like I’m running, madly, and getting nowhere.

I pulled up in front of what used to be my primary school this morning. It’s gone… to drive past there, if you didn’t know, you would never know that anything had been there at all.

Further in, there’s a concrete slab. And not much else. And my perpsective is so skewed, by how tiny this place actually is, by how tiny I must have been, back then; that I couldn’t pick what it once might have.

Time moves on, you see. Trees, they grow, and burn, and grow again. Big places get smaller, further away.

To the point where they exist, where they’re real, only in the minds of people who remember them.

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{ 29 comments… read them below or add one }

River March 13, 2011 at 5:41 pm

I expected similar feelings when I went back to the town I grew up in, but that didn't happen. The town has grown and changed so much I almost didn't recognise it.
It's nice that your hometown is so familiar for you, a place where you can let go and just rewind for a while.


Chantelle {fat mum slim} March 13, 2011 at 4:49 pm

I'm from the South Coast too… and I didn't go back for a while, but when I do it's such a contrast to the City.



In Real Life March 13, 2011 at 1:08 pm

It sounds like a great place to be. *HUGS* Thinking of you!


Melissa March 13, 2011 at 11:28 am

I hope this place is healing for you and for your children. Thinking of you.


Adalita March 13, 2011 at 9:51 am

I moved so much in my younger years I don't really have a childhood hometown. I think where I live now is my new hometown. Glad you are doing well – take time to heal, grow and rediscover yourself.


alliecat March 13, 2011 at 9:51 am

I hope being there helps you all heal. It sounds like you have indeed gone home. Comfort is important, and the familiar can be very comforting.

I am sorry about the primary school though, must be strange seeing that building gone when it was such a big part of your young life.


bigwords is… March 13, 2011 at 8:33 am

Hope it's helping being home again x


Donna March 13, 2011 at 8:21 am

I always refer to my hometown as like rehab. I go there and breathe, surround myself in the familiar, the simplistic… I think this change will do you good, and please never lose hope that your happiness limit has been used up. I believe you are now owed infinite blessings after what you've been through, and that one day they'll come your way x


Michael March 13, 2011 at 6:46 am

Lovely piece.


Kelloggsville March 13, 2011 at 6:31 am

kick off your shoes and feel the grass between your toes. sounds like a calming place. stay a while xx


Watercolor March 13, 2011 at 4:50 am

Sounds like a great place to be. Wishing you peace. And quiet. And all embracing comfort as you heal. hugs.


Duly Inspired March 13, 2011 at 4:08 am

I admire the decisions you are making for yourself and your little ones. I know it's hard, so damn hard, but you are doing it and my goodness I am in awe of your strength. Good for you.


Tone-in-Oz March 13, 2011 at 1:34 am

you 'sound' better, calmer. stay a while


Marianna Annadanna March 13, 2011 at 1:15 am

My hometown feels exactly the same way. Just do what feels right. Let the ease and comfort of home wrap you up like a warm blanket. Find PEACE…


JourneyBeyondSurvival March 12, 2011 at 10:52 pm

I Think You're Doing Fabulous.

I do.

I believe in you.


Being Me March 12, 2011 at 10:40 pm

Hey. Remember what you have written about the trees. I think there is something profound in that for you. Love to you xx


Lucy March 12, 2011 at 10:27 pm

Lori, I often think that the hometowns ripen our memories for the small things. Which is probably good.

I "ran away" once. To hometown. I came back, and am glad. But hometown was therapy.



Leanne March 12, 2011 at 10:25 pm

I think you are healing, Lori. Not that I have any idea, it just seems that way to me.

Enjoy being home.

Leanne xo


Squiggly Rainbow March 12, 2011 at 9:37 pm

Familiarity and simplicity are a gift – and one you have taken it seems. I hope this time blesses you and your babes. x


A Daft Scots Lass March 12, 2011 at 9:24 pm

Enjoy home and the comforts it brings.


Watershedd March 12, 2011 at 8:32 pm

Home. It is good. Even after we leave, it remains home, remains the place that we know. Settle in and heal, Lori. X


Sharnanigans March 12, 2011 at 7:50 pm

I hope going home to simplicity helps you all to heal x


Hear Mum Roar March 12, 2011 at 7:24 pm

What a great idea to go back:) I can relate to the feeling of the hometown being so different


Suz March 12, 2011 at 7:17 pm

I'm glad you can be in a place where you can entertain thoughts of some healing for you and your two precious little people. You are never far from my thoughts Lori xx


Misfits Vintage March 12, 2011 at 7:10 pm

How wonderful to have somewhere in the world where you can just be for a little while, and see what happens. Good for you Lori, for taking such great care of yourself and your littlies.

Sarah xxx


Glowless @ Where’s My Glow March 12, 2011 at 6:58 pm

Just like it seems we have an infinite amount of tears, I believe we have the capacity for infinite happiness… I don't think you've used all yours up.


Good Golly Miss Holly! March 13, 2011 at 2:06 am

Your hometown sounds divine – Allow it's simpleness and familiarity to embrace you and help you heal x


THE Bird March 13, 2011 at 1:34 am

Like I said…


Mrs Woog March 12, 2011 at 8:03 pm

Do it x


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