I drove back through my old home town yesterday, taking in the sights and sounds. It was somehow comforting to know that, 10 years later, things haven’t changed. The sides of highway 9 are still speckled with traveling beanie-clad hippies and citizens … the stores still have peeling and worn-in signs painted in 1974. The dust that has settled over the sleepy cities I grew up in is still relatively untouched. Still crazy, lovable, and somehow, still home.
I guess I’m home