On Going Home

They say you can never go home again. Sometimes, however, you can do something close.

Two years ago, Patrick and I spent most of the week with a single family. Patrick and I had very conveniently bonded deeply with a boy and his mother who lived extremely close to us. And, the rest of the families got along well, too. Our weekdays often started with a joint activity and sometimes involved lunch or an afternoon playdate as well. If Andy was traveling, the afternoons we spent together would often turn into dinner together.

Two weeks ago, as a March break special event, Patrick and I went back to our old neighbourhood in California while Andy stayed at home with Jocelyn, William and Michael. We stayed with the family of Patrick's best buddy. We are the sort of friends who can easily slip into being together after a long absence. It was almost like the past year had never happened, except for a few details: we were sleeping at their house; the boys are taller; the homework is harder; there were pictures and videos of three other children who look like Patrick floating around. But, for Patrick and me to spend a week based at their house with some separate activities seemed completely natural. Surprisingly often, there was no sense that most of our family was missing. It was a wonderful trip, but a slightly surreal experience.

This past week, we have been back in the reality of our now with our complete family. And, as so often happens after a vacation, the week in California already feels somewhat dream-like. And we are home again.