last night i found an old note scrawled in a journal

I found this in an otherwise-empty journal, the only written page stuck somewhere in the middle. I can’t remember now if it was a legitimate journal entry or if it was intended as part of a fictional narrative. I find it strange to look upon now, given the events of the last month. I think it might have started as a navel-gaze then transitioned into something intended for a Savannah Stories rewrite or continuation, which was eventually abandoned and subsequently forgotten.

date: June 9 /08

“You can’t go home again.”

Discuss.

___

There is not one moment in which you become an adult: no one epic ceremony, no memorable kiss, no weekend coming-of-age. The process is much more Linnean. There is no single instant in which you grow-up; there is just that one instant where you realize you already have grown-up. It scares you shitless; makes you feel like you coasted through the years blind; makes you realize you’ve been taking the “good old days” — the days now referred to by radio stations as “Retro”– for granted.

___

My parents sold my childhood home. I guess they realized the child-rearing chapter was over and they could lose the split-level. 

Also, my mother wanted a wine cellar. Now that house is bull-dozer fodder.

It’s true. You can’t go home again.

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