Being back ‘home’ is always a pleasure. After almost seven years, the bad has faded away, and the good nostalgia remains. The hometown is glorified, the old friends still taste fresh in a few quick bites.
It allows the pangs for what could have been to creep to the top. What could have been if I stuck around; what I could have been for my oldest friend in her times of need, what grandparents my parents could have been for my kids.
The flip side comes through at the last minute: What could have been if I had stayed with that guy, what could have been if I had gone for that publishing job in the city. The what could have beens that probably would have lead to the obvious conclusion for an alternative universe: what could have been if I had moved to Israel?