by Lorenza

Created on: March 11, 2009

I remember well the places I lived as a child, the several houses in different parts of the same town, the schools I attended, all the same children I knew from kindergarten through high school, from birth to 18 years old. I have many memories of that town and the people I knew then. But I can't call it home, and while I spent my childhood there, I don't believe it is the place where I really grew up.

In Thomas Wolfe's famous novel, You Can't Go Home Again, he speaks of the inability to go back and feel the same way about a place you used to call home. Once you have gone on to another stage of your life, coming back feels strangely alien, as if it holds none of the comfort and security it used to hold for you. It is someone else's home now, you are just a visitor, a guest, and your life is forever changed by that realization.

Years ago, if anyone had asked me where my hometown was, I would have given them information about the city in California where I lived throughout my young life. But as much time has passed, and I have lived in many places since then, I have come to recognize a different city as my home. It is the place where I made the most lasting friendships, held my most favorite job, and experienced the true meaning of growing up.

Yes, I was born and lived in a particular place on the map for many years, knew many people, spent summers burning the soles of my bare feet on the hot blacktop of the neighborhood street where our house was, went swimming at the city pool, shopped at the city's largest mall, and still have one friend from sophomore year in high school whom I talk to regularly through emails and instant messaging programs. But she doesn't live there anymore either, and once I left there I never looked back.

I experienced quite a bit of life in other places in California, a little good and lots of bad, and no place ever felt just right. But when fate picked me up and deposited me in Albuquerque, New Mexico with a 15 year old child and little money, I took my lemons and made lemonade. I was 39 years old and looking for a new life, and Albuquerque was as good a place as any to begin. In the 12 years that passed, I found that I finally fit into a place I could love, my life made sense, I felt so comfortable there that when people now ask where I am from, it is the first place that springs to mind.

So while I was born and raised in California, Albuquerque is my home, and the memories I have of my life there will always be the ones I treasure most.

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