So, kidnapped may be too strong of a word, but looking back sixty years, it kind of looks like that is what happened.
I really enjoyed my hometown. I had friends there, enjoyed the school there, and most of my kinfolks lived there. I lived with my Grandmother much of my early years. Times being what they were in the late 50s, we had to move. I was ten or eleven at the time, so nobody asked me my thoughts on the matter. We were moving to a place on the river with some acreage in a very small village that was close to a big town where my parents could find work. Well, this sounds like an idyllic situation for a young boy, and it was for a while. I really missed my friends and my school, and I missed my relatives, too. I understood we were trying to make it, and my uncle even came to help us on the land. I liked that a lot since it was kind of a touch of the old home. Little did I know, he was there to keep tabs on me because I was apparently showing signs of being unhappy.
Things just started to unravel for me, and I stayed to myself a lot. My Grandmother came for a visit, and after a short stay, took my uncle back home with her, to my hometown. It was nice, until they left. I still yearned to go back to my hometown. And, I did strike out on my own with a suitcase in hand headed for my hometown. Time ran out on me, and I didn’t get very far before I was found. I managed to stay with my Grandmother for quite a long time during this period
Parents being parents decided the commute to town was a burden so they sold the place, and we moved to a rather large town. The school my brother and I were going to was larger than we had ever seen and the students there did not care one bit if you wanted to be a friend. It was the most unfriendly place I had ever experienced up to that point. I had come from a community where I could invite everyone in my class to my birthday party, and they all showed up-with friends! It was great. That was the baseline of my social experience, and things seem to become more and more fragile. I was really missing my hometown, my relatives, and my friends from school.
We were in that big town a very short time, and wound up in a small community again. Albeit, the community and school were much friendlier, however, it was not anything like my hometown. It became a more tolerable place to be, and I did make friends there, and somewhat enjoyed my time there.
Throughout my life, I have had affection for the life I had in my hometown. I still love the place. My relatives have all passed away and are buried in the cemetery there. I often wonder what my life would have been like, had I been able to stay in my hometown and grow with the community. I did not want to leave there, and I always thought I could go back there.
I have visited, and I have friends there. Somehow, when we sit down to talk, it is like I never left. Somehow, when I walk down Main Street, I remember all the stores there, and it is like I never left.
I spent a good number of my formative years in my hometown, and it is still trying to draw me back. I know it won’t be the same, but will it be close to what it was? It is a very small town, and the young people, for the most part, can’t wait to get out of there, and that is understandable. I see other folks who have stayed in their hometowns and I feel like I have really missed something. That connection, that grounding that comes from living in the same place for a bunch of years.
I have really enjoyed life as it has been happening! I am not sure anything could be any better, but, I was “kidnapped” from my hometown and taken out of there against my will by my parents. I hold no grudge, but I will always wonder what I have missed!
short stories 