Homecoming

When I was a little girl, we lived with my Nana and Grandpa. We’re good old Irish stock (read, incredibly prolific) who liked to host as many people as possible as often as possible. Nana was a baker, and she generally started on the pies, cakes, cookies and biscuits around Monday night. Apparently, the idea was that people always feel welcome if you‘ve baked them a pie - makes good sense to me. I loved that buzzing sensation running through the house before ‘the visitors’ descended. The excitement, the sense of ceremony attached to even the most mundane, the attention to detail. Changing of sheets, washing of floors, folding of laundry, mowing of lawn. We wanted to put our best foot forward for the visitors, only give them a glimpse of the shiniest part of our lives so that we could go back to eating off of t.v. trays in front of the television on Monday.
That’s the feeling our entire town has been experiencing for the last few weeks - longer if you’re a decent citizen. Which I’m not really. The gussying up of our entire town. I think we look quite pretty, don’t you? Our flowers are in full bloom, our lawns are mowed, our streets are clean. I didn’t get a chance to head down to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday, but I was half-expecting, half-hoping the vendors would all be wearing pink and blue bowties. In fact, I have half a mind to start baking a few pies for our visitors - it seems only cordial, don’t you think? Because we want to give these visitors - or ‘ the leavers’ as I like to call them - a great impression of our fair city. Or town, whatever we are. Rather like a jilted lover whose ex-boyfriend has come to town - you better get out the big guns, right? You’d better look your best, paste on a smile that says; “Really, we’re all doing just fine without you!” or “Go ahead - move to the big city! See if you like it any better there!” By the way, these were my suggestions for slogans rather than “The Sound is Calling You Home.” Not bad, eh? Apparently not the red carpet treatment we want to convey, though.
It’s funny, having all of these people coming home has made me think about my homecoming five years ago. How scared I was, how alone I felt, the strange sense of déjà vu that comes from things changing only slightly from your girlhood. But - it felt right. And warm. It’s been a while now, and the city (Seriously, is it a city? I can never remember.) and I have grown into a comfortable sort of marriage. The honeymoon period is over -the first rotten winter ended that phase - but I’m past the ‘seven year itch’ point. I no longer consider up and leaving at every bad turn, because this is where I’m supposed to be. Despite the rotten winters, the feeling of isolation that comes with every January 1st, the crippling absence of either a Gap or an Ikea…
Okay, before I scare ‘the leavers’ away again, I have a few ideas about some activities that have helped me settle in here. The may not be on the official itinerary, but they’ve certainly made me fall into a pretty deep and lasting love with the area - which for me is nothing short of a miracle (I’m not much of a settler). Here goes -
Head down to the River Café and sit in the window, drink a Chai latte and eat a toblerone shortbread cookie. Or any of our other fine cafes, actually; I just really like those cookies. Go for a walk early in the morning through the Mill Dam and past the Jubilee Bridge - be sure to go early enough that the dew is still fresh on the grass. I don’t know why it makes a difference but it does. Visit my curtains at Homeology - you see, I’ve been waiting for these particular curtains to go on sale for awhile now (front window, great floral pattern on a sort of creamy background) and I like to visit them. This is also a warning to let people know those particular curtains are spoken for! If you have children take them to the old-wishing-well-that’s-not-a-well at Harrison Park. Tell them that a troll lives at the bottom, and when they approach it to check (because they will) make distinct growling noises behind them. My Grandpa told me that thirty years ago and I believed him for twenty.
Mostly though, the one thing ‘the leavers’ should do is remember. Remember what it was like to live here, remember what you loved about it and why you still come home. And then you can head back to your big fancy city because we’re fine, just fine!!