Hometown

Traveling to my hometown is somewhat traveling back in time.

 I like to go for breakfast at a place right across the street from my parent's house. 

They make the most buttery toasts you'll ever have. 

The other thing is that I'll end up meeting someone from the past. 

Either a friend, a neighbor, every single face is a page of the history of my past life. 

The conversations are usually concise. Most people don't recognize me.

 I sometimes have to remind them of who I am. It's normal, I've been away for 20 years and visit my hometown a few times a year.

A lot of things have changed, the people have changed, they're older! 

Some have passed away. 

It's melancholic to come back. It also creates some temptation of coming back due to the familiarity, the sense of routine.

 I was going through many old photos of me in my fourteens up until my nineteens when I realized that I had that part of my life completely blocked from my memories. There were moments that no longer take space in my brain. Why? I don't remember those pictures being taken. 

I don't remember me being there. It's like someone else, another version of me, from another time. I feel sad that those memories don't stick, but it's good that we can rely on a good old photo to place those images back in.

On my many trips back, I would walk through the streets and look at everyone's faces to see if it was someone from the past, but I couldn't find anyone. It sort of created a little tension until I stopped doing that and just enjoy being there.

So I will keep coming back. Getting those moments of nostalgia back allows me to understand how far I've moved on and learned from past experiences. The old becomes old and leaves room for the new.