You Can't Go Home Again

I’m not sure I believe that. But, then again, where exactly is
home? I’ve only lived in a few states – Colorado, Oklahoma
and Texas, which isn’t much compared to some. I’ve always
felt torn between Oklahoma and Colorado. I spent substantial
parts of my life in each place. I have dear memories, dear
people, in both. I only spent a few months living there, but I
did a lot of growing up in Texas. Although it sounds cheesy, I
left a big honkin’ chunk of my heart there.

I’ve been going on a little genealogical scavenger hunt for
my Indian roots lately. My own 40th birthday and the
pending birth of my niece are part of that. It’s also something
I’ve thought about doing over the years and it may be a little
easier now, with all of the electronic information available to
me right at my desk.

I’ve been contacting and keeping in contact with friends from
the past. I’ve been looking at old pictures. I’ve been assessing
my life. I’ve been making some changes and insisting on some
from those around me.

I’ve been gathering up my people, I guess; the people who
contributed genes to my body, the people who have touched
my life in the past, the people who are in my life now. I’ve
been taking a close look at them. Some of them have carried
me a really long way.

They’re some great people, these people of mine.

What’s for dinner?