Ever since dad died and mom sold our house and moved to Maine, I knew I would never be able to go home again, at least not home as I had known it. There would be no bedroom waiting for me and no family meals around our old kitchen table. I wouldn’t be headed home for Thanksgiving to catch up with all my childhood friends. Of course I would visit my mom in her studio apartment in Maine and of course I would visit Boston every once in a while and stay with a friend or a relative, but it would never be “home” the way it once was. But this weekend, I was proven wrong. Matt and I stayed with my cousin Anna in her one-bedroom apartment in the North End. She gave us her bed, with fresh sheets and a set of towels at the foot. It was a cozy and happy home base. We were in town for the wedding of one of my very best friends. I knew it would be fun, I knew I would see lots of people that I hadn’t seen in a long time, but I was not expecting a homecoming. And yet, that’s exactly what it felt like, being surrounded by so many people with whom I’ve shared so much of my life. I was home for a few hours – not because of the house or the city, but because of the people. Continue reading →