• blarghly@lemmy.worldEnglish
    11·
    2 days ago

    > be me
    > go home because parents guilted me into it
    > first step out the airport. It’s 1000000° and the air is sticky asf
    > IveMadeAHugeMistake.jpg
    > house is a wreck. random bullshit piled to the ceiling in spare rooms just like when I was a kid
    > mom bitching about brown people. same bitching I’ve heard all my life
    > dad talking about how he’s gonna retire soon. yeah right. what would he do with his time if he wasnt working?
    > feel melancholy and hopelessness setting in
    > tfw you realize you have to live like this for 2 more days until your flight

  • TrackinDaKraken@lemmy.worldEnglish
    12·
    3 days ago

    After both parents died, we four kids sold the house. It’s still “home”, but it’s not ours anymore. That home exists only in our memories, as do our parents. At 60, I’m the youngest of the four of us, so they’ll all be dying sooner than later. I take better care of myself than any of them, so I’ll probably be the last to go. Then it will only be my son left. He’s adamant that he doesn’t want kids, and I fully understand. Our family name will die with him.

    That’s life.

    • UnderpantsWeevil@lemmy.worldEnglish
      6·
      3 days ago

      We brought the past with us. We’re still here and we’re advancing our historical works into the future.

      So much of what was old is new again. So much of what was new is now a bedrock upon which the next thing is built.

      Do a bit of digging and you’ll find it. Do a bit of listening and you can still hear history echo.

    • whoisearth@lemmy.ca
      6·
      2 days ago

      It’s partly why I never felt prey to the nostalgia trends that afflict my generation (x). You can’t go back so why not focus on now? I love getting older. I am aware of my parents and my impending mortality but I embrace it.

      I miss the house I grew up in. I still have those moments of core memories that come off of a sound, or smell, or touch, but I’m here. The moments are sweeter for knowing I can’t return.

      The trick is to know that home is in you so it doesn’t matter where you are.

      • FryHyde@lemmy.zip
        6·
        2 days ago

        The Michael Douglas movie where he holds McDonald’s workers at gunpoint until they make him a breakfast sandwich five minutes after they stopped serving breakfast?

            • lessthanluigi@lemmy.sdf.org
              2·
              2 days ago

              Oh, sorry. In the beginning of the movie, and parts throughout, Michale Douglas’s character keeps repeating the phrase “I’m going home!” Even though he really has no home to go to. Basically trying to go to his ex-wife that she does not want him around because he is scary. He also lost his job as well.

              Pretty much “going home” means he wants to go back into the past, A simpler time where prices of food was cheaper and there are not so many new age shops taking away his ice cream shops.

              But also he has somewhat of a heart, truly wanting to see his daughter, and being highly sympathetic with this one black guy who got laid off (or could not get a bank loan, i dont remember) holding a sign saying “Not Economically Viable”, while the protester gets arrested.

              In short, it is about fascism, escalation, and the problems of moden society in the 90’s, while also having a stragely compassionate lense as well.

              • whoisearth@lemmy.ca
                2·
                2 days ago

                I’m aware I was just thinking of the McDonald’s scene. The whole movie as you said is an allegory for wanting to “go home to a simpler time”. It is unfortunately tied to fascism now but the sentiment is felt by many normal people. It’s completely human nature to want to go home and home is as much a place as it is a point in time or a feeling

  • InvalidName2@lemmy.zip
    5·
    3 days ago

    I’ve kind of been on both sides of this.

    For me, returning to and then leaving my home town triggers feelings of melancholy but also relief. I didn’t grow up in a stable, solidly middle-class (or higher) lifestyle, so I’m sure that’s a factor.

    While I had a good childhood and loving parents, things got complicated the older I became. And even when I happen upon a reminder of the good times or a fond memory, way too often it’s tainted by how fucked up things were at the time.

    On the other hand, “the kids” … it’s wonderful when they’re home for summer. When they’re at my house, at least I know they are safe, happy, and that all their needs are being met, in as much as possible. It’s sad to see them go, when I know it’s going to be months before they’re back.

    But also, it’s a sigh of relief when my life can go back to being on my terms sans drama and chaos. It’s almost total bliss when I can go out to the kitchen in my undies for a cup of coffee fully confident that the milk jug won’t be sitting in the fridge completely empty (or with a minuscule amount of milk remaining so as to be practically useless but also technically not empty).

    • henfredemars@infosec.pubEnglish
      6·
      3 days ago

      If it’s any consolation, I just returned home because of a death in the family. And while things are nostalgic, they’re also completely different, and I know that the time and experiences I had when I was a child will never be the same again.

      I can go back to the place, but I can never go back to the time. Things have changed. I’m on a new adventure, in a different chapter of my life story. Many of my friends are gone. Their stories have ended. Mine continues.

      • PhobosAnomaly@feddit.uk
        2·
        3 days ago

        Beautifully put.

        I love my home town. It’s lovely, quaint, and consistently ranks somewhere on the “best places to live in” surveys. I was really fortunate to grow up there, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.

        I flew the nest, found my own path, and moved around a bit. I’ve settled six hundred miles away - and with the numbers of folk in my family slowly starting to dwindle, I’m finding fewer and fewer reasons to go back home.

        I miss my formative years, but rather than grieve for them, I’m thankful for growing up somewhere that gave me a lot of joy and good memories. I may not have grown up where I am now, but it’s where my other half and my kids are, and that’s home now.

      • merc@sh.itjust.works
        11·
        3 days ago

        Also, some things haven’t changed, but should have.

        Yeah, the kitchen smells the same, mom’s laugh is the same, dad’s still using the same chipped mug.

        But, dad’s prejudices haven’t changed, they’ve only calcified a bit more. Mom’s learned helplessness has only gotten worse. The old disagreements never got resolved, they just got shelved, ready to be taken down again when the time comes.

        Plus, the parents think that you, their kid, hasn’t changed. They still see you as helpless and in need of their guidance, even when they’re having increasing difficulty navigating the world because things are changing too quickly for them to handle. Hence the old meme of “take your resume, walk right into that office, and demand a job!”

        I get the appeal of nostalgia, and it’s sometimes fun to pretend that things haven’t changed, but it’s better to realize that time keeps marching forward and try to adapt to the new situation.

  • Tanis Nikana@lemmy.worldEnglish
    5·
    3 days ago

    I yearn for the time when I was a kid. I yearn for the time when the right side of my body functioned almost as good as the left. I yearn to be picked up by my dad, to sneak chocolate chips out of the baking cupboard instead of just buying the damn things from the store. I yearn for my birthday to be an event with gifts and a day I’d anticipate two weeks in advance, instead of remembering I missed it again the following morning, after having spent my birthday at work. I yearn for summers off and I yearn for fifty dollars to be a lot of money with no responsibility.

    I yearn for time.

  • AreaSIX @lemmy.zip
    2·
    3 days ago

    Kind of reminds me of this beautiful poem:

    "…And I will leave. but the birds will stay, singing:

    and my garden will stay, with its green tree,

    and its white water well…

    Many afternoons the skies will be calm and blue,

    and the bells in the belfry will chime,

    like they’re chiming this very afternoon.

    The people who have loved me will die,

    and the town will burst anew every year.

    And in the corner of my green, flowering whitewashed garden,

    my spirit will wander nostalgic from tree to well.

    And I will leave,

    and I’ll be lonely, without a home,

    without a green tree, without a white water well,

    without calm and blue skies…

    And the birds will stay, singing."

    -“El viaje definitivo”, Juan Ramón Jiménez

  • waftastic@lemmy.world
    2·
    3 days ago

    Expected this to take a dark turn because anon, was not prepared for warm poetic nostalgia in its place.