
The most recent writing prompt set by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a hometown. It can be your hometown or a fictional one. Who is there? When is it set? What is happening? Go where the prompt leads!
Since then, a song has been playing in my head on a relentless loop. It wasn’t the song chosen by Charli. She chose Bruce Springsteen. The one that played for me is from my younger years and I’m going to share it with you now in the hope that I can shake it free.
You’d think with two weeks to respond to the prompt, I’d have come up with something worthwhile. Instead, I struggled. Maybe that’s because I don’t have a strong sense of ‘hometown’.
Unrelated to Springsteen’s My Hometown or Tom Jones’s Green Green Grass of Home, this is my response. I hope it tells something in some small hometown way.
Home is Where the Heart Is
The playlist his children organised looped a soundtrack to his questions — retirement and grandchildren afforded time and reason — to resolve. Why did they flee? Why darkness? Telling nobody? Taking nothing? Disallowed of memories to share? He’d never felt he was completely whole. This hometown jaunt should patch the space within. But nothing matched the picture painted in his mind; no road sign, store name, building or a tree. Concrete covered sandy roads where once they played. Then a breeze swirled round a feeling of forgiveness and of freedom and he turned his mind and car to heart and home.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate your comments. Please share your thoughts.
A great story. We are lucky in our family that we share stories of the past. My brothers, some cousins and I went to visit the homestead a few years ago. There was nothing left but we remembered where the living room would have been, hauled some bales to the spot and sat around chatting as if the house were still standing. The years melted away.
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I love that story, Darlene. The magic of memories – they can transport us back, particularly when they are shared.
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We live long enough and the places that form us change beyond recognition. Beautifully captured in your flash. And I do remember Green Green Grass of Home.
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That’s right. Regardless of what we think or feel about our experiences, they have all shaped who we are, for better or worse.
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This is a great piece, Norah, even if you did have to belabour it initially,
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Thank you, Robbie. I appreciate your kind words of support.
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A few years ago Hubby and I stopped at the first home we shared… So many differences.
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How did the changes make you feel?
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Apart from feeling old… a bit sad. But also glad that we now had a home we cherished.
Neither of our school life was spectacular. While I went to one HS reunion with and hubby went on another of his alone… there really wasn’t much to write home about – rubber chicken dinners are just rubber chicken dinners…
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I know what you mean. What we have now is more important than what once was. We can’t bring it back, even if we wanted to. It’s important to enjoy each precious moment as we have them
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Very lovely and thoughtful. I enjoyed your memories.
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Thank you, Patricia.
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This is beautiful Norah. I struggled with this prompt too and had to dig deep. You did well. You’ve crafted a little treasure here. I love how you’ve shown that the place, as it is, cannot replace the feelings and memories of what once was.
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Thank you, Rebecca. I appreciate your thoughtful comment.
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Home, for me, is where I currently live and where I feel safe and secure. I guess the pandemic has a lot to do with that. But like the character in your piece of flash, going back to where I was bought up doesn’t give me any good feeling anymore. I guess it’s the changes that have occurred to both my hometown and me that have done that, so thank goodness we have our memories, Norah.
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Memories are so important, Hugh. I wish I had more. I’ve forgotten so much. Some people seem to remember everything in detail but I have huge gaps. Photographs are great aids, I find.
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Yes, photos are a great help, but I also like to visit elderly relatives and talk about their lives and the past. It often results in lovely memories resurfacing for me, Norah.
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I know what you mean, Hugh. Sadly, for me, there are not many of the older generation left. My generation are the front line now.
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I know what you mean, Norah. I’m almost at the front too. But that makes me want to share more memories.
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I hope you’ve got people who are willing to listen, Hugh. Many are not interested until it’s too late.
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Lovely read, Norah!
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Thank you, Angela.
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You captured his feelings well. Bittersweet and powerful, Norah.
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Thank you, Jennie. I’m pleased his feelings came through. I did struggle to find and express them.
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You’re welcome, Norah. If there was struggling, it did not come across in the writing.
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I’m pleased. Thank you.
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You’re welcome.
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This was beautifully written, Norah. As someone who has lived in Asia and both Australia and faced conflicting cultural identities, no where is really home to me. Home is more a space and a feeling to me – and I felt your words at the end captured this sentiment 🙂
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Thank you for your kind words, Mabel. I’m so pleased my intended message shone through.
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You are welcome, Norah. Always find something meaningful in your words. I hope you are doing alright over there with the lockdown and all that is going on. Please stay safe and take care.
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Thankfully, we’re out of lockdown again this evening. I’m not sure how long our freedom will last. 🤞 I hope you are doing okay too, Mabel. You’re back in lockdown – again! 💖
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It is wonderful you are out of lockdown, Norah. Very happy for you. Enjoy your freedom and the sunshine 😊💖
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Thank you, Mabel. I hope things settle down for you all down there and that you are out of lockdown again soon. I can’t wait for these lockdowns to be over, though I am happy for them to keep the virus at bay.
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Maybe Thomas Wolfe was right – You Can’t Go Home Again.
and My Hometown is one of my favorite Springsteen songs…
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That’s a bit like being unable to step into the same river twice, isn’t it? I don’t think we can ever really recapture the past, especially when memories are vague.
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I love that saying about the river… and I guess that’s why itsnice to have a diary or a bunch of photos, to help trigger those long-forgotten memories…
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I know. Every day, it seems, I remember something else I’ve forgotten. If you know what I mean. I was having a discussion with Hub today about a few events I really should remember but can recollect very little of them. In fact, I’d forgotten all about some of them until prompted. It’s a bit sad. Photos are definited great memory aids.
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it’s funny howsome things we remember, like lyrics to a song from 40 years ago, but forget what we had for dinner last week.
Maybe I should start taking pictures of all my meals 🙂
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And post them on Facebook!? 😂
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I wouldn’t want to ruin people’s appetites 🙂
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😂
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sadly many people are feeling displacement, you captured that well!
This version of this song brings back many memories 🙂
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I’m pleased that sense of displacement came through. I wasn’t sure if it did, so thank you.
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it sure did for me!
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💖
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very well written and bittersweet
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Thank you, Beth.
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Lovely story. Nice memories.
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Thank you, Jacqui.
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