I was listening to the Bruce Springsteen song from The Rising over and over today as I dusted.
When I was young, I wanted to leave my family, had to go as far away as possible. I was going to explore. Now I think of my thirty-year voluntary separation from them and wonder if it’s time to wander home.
I’ve been retracing my steps this past month, pacing a neighborhood, circling and returning to locations I’ve already visited. And I find new corners in them.
Maybe the city of my childhood also has a new face to show me?
Not only the dead
are missing, mourned terribly
But the living too