Going Home Again

I packed my things into a 14-foot u-haul, loaded my eleven week-old chocolate Labrador into my new X-Terra, and headed out. It was December 28. That was the last time my zip code was 75503.

Texarkana. My home for my entire life - with the exception of nine months annually of college. And even that was only 73 miles up Interstate 30.

I was brought home from the hospital to one house, lived there until Kindergarten, and we moved. Only two houses in 24 years. In 2006, mom and dad moved away. Not much to go home for. We still have some family there - mom's brother, his daughter and family, and my grandmother - but my free time now involves heading to see mom and dad.

For the first time since November of 2008, I went home yesterday. It was only for a few hours, but I was home. I have no desire to live there again at any point in my life, but I was home.

Texarkana has changed drastically. What was formerly a six-exit stretch along I-30 beginning a couple of miles before the Texas border and stretching west to just beyond the edge of town is now a congested and mud-covered center of economic growth, new highway infrastructure, and progress in general. Our good friends have moved their business right to the center of the new growth. The appliance store that you used if you didn't like Sears is right next to them. The jeweler who has served at least three generations of our family is moving as well.

The car lots where I spent so many late nights looking in windows, kicking tires, and coming up with a reason to purchase are now just a stone's throw away from our old neighborhood. Northward expansion has made what was formerly a two-lane road to get from the interstate to our house a mess of multiple lanes of traffic and bright lights.

As we exited yesterday to head towards Jefferson, Texas for a birthday party, I didn't even know where I was. The exits were different. Traffic flowed in patterns I would not have ever dreamed of. I was instantly frustrated and thought to myself at least once, "What have they done to my town???" I was somewhat relieved as I headed south on loop 151 - an area we passed through many times - to see that most of that part of town was untouched by the other progress. Good grief. Acme brick...I've never been so thankful to see you. You still look the way I remember. And Seventh Street Big-K. I only darkened your door if I was really desperate in my search for an item out of stock at Target or Wal-Mart, but you're there too. Just as I remember you.

Later in the day, we returned to Texarkana to pick up dinner and take it down to my grandmother. We headed back up the same stretch of loop 151, but this time excited on New Boston Road. Instantly, I knew where I was. This was home. This was what I remembered.

I passed the skating rink where I attended countless birthday parties - my own included. Bunch Gardens (no relation), where mom and I bought flowering plants year after year, and where we purchased our beloved Cocker Spaniel back in the days when they operated a pet shop as well. You were still there.

Adjacent to Bunch Gardens - the structure formerly known as Raleigh's. No telling how many iced beverages we purchased through the drive-thru window after shopping for flowers in the spring and summer heat.

KFC - you were there too. Same spot. Different color scheme.

As we traveled east on New Boston Road and merged onto Summerhill - the road leading to my grandmother's house and what remains of our family farm - the only road that leads home anymore, I remembered making a few runs to the Goodwill store in December of 2006 as we loaded the last of mom and dad's things into the moving van. We donated lots of things we didn't want to mess with transporting...lawn mower, the gas grill, etc. I remember making those trips from the house to Goodwill and thinking to myself, "They're really leaving..."

Benjamin was crying in the backseat, and begging for orange juice. I kept assuring him that "Daddy is stopping right up here..." As I approached the intersection where I remembered a service station, I noticed that the dealership where my aforementioned vehicle was purchased had expanded as well...right over the station. Neither Benjamin nor I were amused.

Finally having found him a bottle of Minute Maid, Jenny, my son and I continued towards my grandmother's house. We took a small detour before darkness fell and passed by 3015 Moores Lane...First Baptist Church, Texarkana...the church formerly (in the '80s) named Six Flags Over Jesus. I've heard churches called that recently. Mega-churches are commonplace nowadays, but I think I can safely say we were the first to be compared to an amusement park. It's that big.

We turned onto Cooks Lane, noticed how old the middle school campus is looking, and headed towards my old house. We lived there for over 20 years. Amazing to think about. The neighborhood was never that great. Modestly-priced and fairly economically-constructed single-family homes, duplexes, and several rows of townhouses. It's gone down a lot since I was in high school, and even more since my parents moved. Nothing in the neighborhood is worth a lot - but the memories are priceless.

The phrase is ancient..."You can't go home again." I believe it. Because the second you leave, you have changed the landscape as well.

Nothing is ever exactly as you remember it. Neighborhoods change. Buildings are torn down. Companies are bought and sold. Small business owners sell out...new ones change the look. And as sad as it can sometimes be to see, the only constant we can hold to is constant change.

I honestly think I'll never have a 75503 zip code again, but I'm thankful to have called those five digits home for so many years. To quote a Montgomery Gentry song I used to love, "Where I was born, where I was raised, where I keep all my yesterdays." You were my town.