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You Can Never Go Home Again

Linda Cacaci,


T
homas Wolfe had said that. It sounds sad. It is true and yet in a way it isnít. It depends on what home you are talking about.



When some people talk about home they are talking about not only their home but the whole neighborhood. You can still have your childhood home standing but the rest of the neighborhood might be different. That is my story.

I grew up in Queens Village, New York, a quaint town in Queens. It used to be called the bedroom community. It was in one of the five boroughs, but it was almost Long Island, which were the suburbs.

Our house was between two avenues Jamaica Avenue and Hillside Avenue. On one avenue there were stores and shops and it was the same at the other avenue. You had grocery stores and bakeries and banks. You had libraries, too. Then we had a boulevard - Francis Lewis Boulevard. It was a main thoroughfare. There you would find a smaller grocery store and a beauty shop. There was also a candy store where you could pick up the daily paper and a wonderful German deli.

Only 2 blocks ago, the elementary school stood and another block away was the Catholic Church. We all had different traditions. My grandmother and I would go to the 12
Mmmm. If I close my eyes, I can smell them right now. The aroma was wonderful.
oíclock mass on Sundays and on the way home we would pick up some things at the bakery to have with Sunday brunch. Our tradition was to have the crumb buns. My grandmother started Sunday dinner while we were eating brunch. We are Italian so pasta was the name of the game. The meat, beef, pork and meatballs, were browned for the sauce. This wonderful sauce simmered all afternoon, with the appetizing aromas wafting through the house. Mmmm. If I close my eyes, I can smell them right now. The aroma was wonderful. I would be off doing my homework. My mother would be straightening up the house. We were getting ready for the week ahead.

Those are my precious memories of home. While I cannot
In my heart I will always be able to go home again and isnít that where it really counts?
physically go back home, I can go back home in my mind. I can go back and smell the wonderful aroma of Sundayís dinners, of the love we all shared.

My mother has been gone for 38 years and my grandmother has been gone for 43 years, but if I close my eyes one more time, I can be right there in the picture, my family picture.

In my heart I will always be able to go home again and isnít that where it really counts?



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