At first it seemed like a reunion trip straight out of Grosse Pointe Blank only I wasn't a professional hitman, I had already married my love, and there was no actual reunion. I looked through some photos of times gone by (I don't think there are any of the future), and experienced short flashbacks of the drug-free variety - the paper route, the "round" bank that has been replaced by two monstrosity buildings, and how to get to Route 22 if Martine Ave. is traffic jammed.
It is disorienting to be "home".
It is humbling to go back "home".
It is difficult to take pieces of "home" back home with you when you are limited to 50 lbs. a suitcase.
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