Home is Where the Heart Is

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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.

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Thank you for reading. I appreciate your comments. Please share your thoughts.

50 thoughts on “Home is Where the Heart Is”

  1. Darlene

    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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      1. Jules

        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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        1. Norah Post author

          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

          Liked by 1 person

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  7. Hugh W. Roberts

    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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    1. Norah Post author

      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.

      Liked by 1 person

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  8. Pingback: My Hometown « Carrot Ranch Literary Community

  11. Mabel Kwong

    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 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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        1. Norah Post author

          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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            1. Norah Post author

              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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    1. Norah Post author

      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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        1. Norah Post author

          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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