This blog was designed to be entertaining but it will also educate (I hope)

There will be delightful stories about mom and the boy, my son, or as I have christened them, Bonnie & Clyde.

There will be cautionary tales.

Mostly though this is a method for me to sort out some of the things in my head, and a method to talk about what ‘ails’ me.

Yes constant reader, you are invited to have a front seat in my madness.  Aren’t you happy that I thought of this?

I sort of am…I think that for the most part, it is therapeutic for me.  I like therapy.

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Homecoming is familiar to those who have been to college, a weekend set aside for the alumni to celebrate the glory years.  Homecoming could be something like Thanksgiving, where all of the family gathers, the drunk uncle pinches a boobie, and the turkey is dry.

Homecoming can also be something very very different.

I have spent the greater part of my ‘adult’ years in and out of a relationship.  For good for bad, that relationship has defined me.  Sometimes both good and bad.

As 2010 draws to a close – far faster than I needed it to – I ask aloud can you ever go home again?

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Home is the place that you go where the sheets are clean, the TV is on, the food is hot and that feels like no other.

Home is the one place that is safe, that is comforting, and that you never have to leave if you do not wish.

Once you have left, can you go home again?

When you walk back up the front steps, do they seem longer or shorter?  You remembered there being 10 but are there 12 now?

Does the key still fit in the door, or was the door left open for you?

If the door was left open, do you fear turning the knob, or opening the door all of the way?

Can you go home again?

Once inside, is there a familiar smell to the air, is there carpet now when there was hardwood according to your memory?

Are familiar arms waiting for you or do things just seem a little off?

Can you go home again?

If you walk back up the steps and into the door, what do you expect to find?

Do you have expectations?  If you have expectations, are you disappointed if they are not met?

Can you go home again?

I wonder about that.

Coming home means that my current life is altered.  I typically do not do well with alterations.  I resist change and I like to have my own way.  I typically get my own way.

Coming home means leaving the life that I created for myself.  It’s a good life, but it is honestly not full.

Like dinner with just potatoes, you miss the steak.

Coming home means taking the risk that I will be hurt.  There is pain that happened the last time I was home, and I do not want to live through that pain again.

I do not have to though.

One of the reasons why I live the life that I live, seek the relationship that I seek, is that the structure is soothing and comforting to me.  It allows me to be free within the chains that bind me.  A contradictory term to most I am sure, but then again, you have never met anyone like me.

But at the end of it all, this is a story that needs to be told, and I do not yet have a publisher.

So Vizionz from the Bottom will continue, and I will ask can you go home again?