Sunday, January 12, 2014

Going Home

Certain songs or lyrics speak directly to our hearts. From the first time you hear them and over the years they remain. I think that is the job of the song writer. That is their intent, the same as a poet or a writer of fiction. Miranda Lambert did that for me with her song, The House that built me. The words of that song reflect my own thoughts so closely in places that it is almost prophetic. I could stand there and say, I bet you didn't know my favorite dog is buried under that old pine tree. She spoke of " finding herself " in that song and I think I know what she means. It is not so much as a finding of oneself as remembering where you came from. We often leave our little worlds of home and get lost in the larger world of life. We forget the lessons learned on our doorsteps. There are moments when all we want is to go back home. That is what I think she was singing about. Traveling back in time to a place of love and comfort. A place so familiar and warm and a place of safety. That overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.
Now that song has been around awhile, at least three years. It doesn't get played on the radio a whole lot. It peaked in popularity and then dropped from the charts. For me, however, it will remain in the top ten, I do have a penchant for sad songs. I also like story songs and she combined those two things beautifully. There are times when that song just hits me. That happened yesterday and is the impetus for this writing today. I was just getting dressed and the radio was on. I just stopped, sat down and listened. The reason for that reaction I can not tell, I really have no explanation for it.
Over fourteen years ago I did get the chance to go back to my childhood home. I had gone there to bury my Dad. We held the ceremony at Cedar Lawn Cemetery. In that cemetery lie a good portion of my ancestors. The majority of them are in close proximity to one another. I can wander about in there however and stumble across many relatives and friends from the past. Following that I went to the home were I was raised. I made a point of walking up that dirt road as I had done so many times in my youth. I went to the front door. Strange, going to the front door, as we seldom used that. I knocked and a lady answered. I told her who I was and she remembered my parents, whom she had bought the house from, and invited me in. She was kind enough to just leave me with my memories and I looked around a bit. The drawing on the wallpaper was still there and the stairs still creaked in that one spot. A felt a real sadness come over me and I left, thanking her for her time. I walked further up that dirt lane and visited the grave of my dog. Ladie boy was happy to see me.
Now every once in awhile, when I hear that song, that same feeling comes over me. I wonder if I will ever see that place again. Will it still exist if I do go back ? Sadly, I think the answer will be, no. That place only exists now in my memory. Oh, the house may stand and the ground still there but that isn't what made it home. And I think that is what Miranda Lambert was singing about. She says, " won't take anything but a memory,from the house,that built me. " Still, like she says in her song, I just needed to go there one last time. I didn't know there would be a song about that and it is one of those things that you can tell others about,but they won't believe you. It is true, I did just what she wrote about. Her words spoke directly to me.

                                                                               

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