Going home
/“Who says, ‘you can’t go home’?”
The email arrived from someone I did not know. It turned out he was the chaplain of my high school and was interested in me coming and speaking to the students at one of the morning meetings. Honored, I accepted and then tried to think of something to say. To the students, having an alumnus come speak is no big deal, but to the alumnus it is as exciting as it was intimidating.
It’s been 35 years since I attended the school and much has happened, to the school and to me. Trying to bridge the gap between what was and what is took much time and reflection, but, in the end, I decided to speak from the very core of my being. I refused to put on a show, appear more than I am, and that meant taking a deep breath and being completely honest and vulnerable.
I arrived early and wandered the once familiar halls. Like me, the place looked different but was also the same as it was 35 years ago. I decided to speak to the only student I’ve ever known, me, and so in the presence of the current students I had a conversation with me when I was a student. In the conversation I spoke of the things I wish I had known years ago.
I have no idea what my words said to those in attendance, but for me it was a powerful and cathartic experience. As I drove away, I realized I had just experienced a homecoming of sorts. On the surface, one might say I returned to the home that was once my school, but I know the homecoming was deeper than that. I returned to the person I was and am, stood comfortably in my skin as if for the first time, and it was wonderful to return home.