A place that held you doesn’t exist as it was — a house sold, a town changed, a table you can’t sit at anymore. You can be homesick for a place that’s gone.
“What would you have me know about the home I can’t return to?”
Some additional insights around this question:
- What place do you grieve?
- What did it hold that you carry with you still?
- How could you make a home like it now, in a new form?
