The sea was red and the sky was grey

It’s nice to be back, but we sure had an enjoyable stay in southern California. The kids and I got to spend time with dad and Helen, I got to reminisce about places I haven’t seen in 25 years, plus I haven’t spent Father’s Day with my dad in I don’t know how long.

Regrets? There were a few. The expense, of course. Then there was my my cell phone mishap. And I did finally hear something from the man I took to be my biological uncle: he says he’s positive I have the wrong guy.

Still, the time seemed very right for me to make this pilgrimage. None of us are getting any younger, certainly not my kids. For me personally the theme of the journey was one of reclamation. So much of my childhood–good and bad–seems vague, half-remembered, and dissociated. As if it were someone else’s story. Going to California was an effort to reach out for those things, grab them and claim as my own again. And you know what? I got a few of them. Put them right in my pocket and brought them back with me.

They say you can never go home again. But even if that’s true it’s still possible to have wonderful visits.

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