So happy was I
After all these years to be going home
Yet I wasn’t sure I’d taken the right turning
Nothing familiar in my surroundings
And the farther I walked
The more I baulked
Certain now I’d lost my way
Or could it be my home was so changed
That now it appeared so strange?
crispina kemp 
A familiar scenario Crispina. Going back can sometimes be challenging
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Yes, It tries to shred the memories. Only the dearest, held deep in the heart, remain
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Very true my friend.
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And how often does that happen – that our memory of a place is so different from what it has become.
Nicely done, Madam!
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I took my middle daughter (hiking companion) to see the village where I spent so much time with my grandma. Oh, but it was not the same. The house was gone. The wonderful farm where I’d helped feed the cattle and hit a gate post driving a tractor, now was given over to new new housing estate. Sacrilege! And my aunt’s pub, an old coaching inn, had been gutted and divided into two nondescript houses. Horrible.
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That is just so sad, Crispina. Cherished places erased and replace by ugly. It’s never easy to witness or to come back after many years and get a shock as we didn’t see it happening.
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It’s that, that we don’t see it happening. We pay less heed to the changes that happen all around us, all the time
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This is true, too.
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They say you can never really go home again….you can, but it will never be quite the same.
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I return often (well twice a year at least) to my old home. But it’s only for the woods and the river. I see so many changes in the village, year by year, it’s not the place I left 40 years ago
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