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I grew up in Rockford, Illinois. Much of my maternal extended family lived in the area at the time. The city seemed always to have enough. There were places to go, events, activities, restaurants, shopping, and many things you might expect from a larger city. I have gone to sporting events, festivals, parks, and celebrations. There have been events through the school, church, city, and other things. We may not have ventured out to many restaurants, but many were available. We like what we like, but the family cooking is also stellar. Being so near Chicago and Milwaukee, we did not really feel the need to visit either much.

Eventually, events, restaurants, and people move in and out of town. Things change. Improvements and advancements sometimes mean defacing what once was. My own adventures have led me across many states and even halfway across the world. I first went away to college. During those years, I started to branch out because of the friends and activities I joined. From those choices, I ended up halfway across the world.

Among all the enjoyment and adventure of all that I have seen, I still wonder about and long for home. As much as I could not wait to get away from this place, I always home my people and my places hold the memories that I formed there. Good and bad both have formed me into what I am today. I accept it all.

Being away for so many years causes a person to adopt new places and people and norms. I experienced these changes in my time away from home. Even when I adopt a new place as home, when I head back toward Rockford, I call it home. While I am in Rockford, I may call a different place home. I suppose I can feel at home in more than one place.

When I do get to come back home, there are certain people that I always hope to purposely run into, foods I would like to taste because they are not quite the same anywhere else in the world, and perhaps places I would like to go.

Even then, as things change, I start to adapt and replace memories. I drive down roads and remember what that store used to be there and where a building was demolished. I remember who used to live in that house and what restaurant or store was in this location before.

I remember how home used to look so big when I was small. I still find that mark on the wall or decoration in its place. Items are updated, but the people are the same. The smells are the same. The tastes are the same. A sense of comfort and familiarity draws me in.

I miss the simplicity of youth. I miss my playmates who have moved on. I miss the big garden outback. I miss the bike rides, playing in the snow, and making music.

Having lived so long on a tropical island, I always longed to see snow during the winters that I returned home. I have tried to grow things, but they never turn out as fertile as my parents' gardens did. I enjoy time with friends face to face, but we soon return to our commitments.

My photo shows a bicycle exchanged for a car. The season’s first snowfall is captured in the altered yard I playing during my youth. There is no garden in the back, but an unexpected gift of flowers from a good friend draws together the nostalgic places and people. While there are no fond foods to remember in this photo, I probably went into the house for a snack after I capture this image.