Coming home.
I have written about going away.
I have written about Love letters while away.
I have written about waiting to go home.
So today, to bring you back to a time when we were all young and pretty-
I am writing about Coming Home...if someone special is there to greet you.

I do hope these brings back sweet, or at least bittersweet memories. If Jody got your girl (or guy) and gone. I apologize. But if you had at least those first few days back in the Arms you missed so much...I hope you close your eyes and smell her perfume, the feel of her hair sliding against your chin, and the almost desperate grip you have on each other as you realize it isn't a dream.

You are both there, holding each other, and you don't have to let go and say goodbye. That tomorrow, the next day, and the one after that...are all yours. together.

So here we go.

That first love is an experience most of us never forget. For some it ended naturally. For others it was ripped apart by Parents, distance, or the Military.
But if it lasted long enough for you to go away in the Service, and it was still there when you came home- well then you got a Homecoming.

A homecoming that only young men and young women unscarred by life and adulthood share. You were what? Maybe 20 or 21 when you saw her again after a year, a year and a half, or two years? Maybe a weekend pass here, or a ten day leave there, or a thirty day shot before being sent to war or overseas to another country.

That was all the time you had to build on whatever foundation you had before you left. All the other time was filled with two things, letters and memories. That is all you had to keep each other's love alive. It is surprising how many of us did just that.

It wasn't unusual for both parties to be faithful. It sound weird nowadays, or even like it was impossible, but it was a different time. My girl stayed faithful for two and half years...so...did...I. I even know couples who stumbled during those long separations, but forgave, reunited and moved on. And yes, I do know the ones that didn't survive. Even those tho...if they made it to a Homecoming, had that unreal joy at the airport. The hug that tried to weld two souls, two hearts, and two futures...into one.

That first night with either her parents, your parents, your best friend, or her best friend driving you home from the airport , train, or bus station- you just sat in the back seat making cow eyes,kissing, or crying to each other. Afraid to let go...because every other time together the fear of having to let go and go away lay in wait behind the joy.

Not this time. You were home for good. You were staying. You could make plans for the next day, the following Friday, or (God forbid) next month! It didn't seem real. You ate that first supper at her house, seated next to each other, holding hands under the table the whole time. Only letting go to cut meat, or pass the salt, or reach for your drink. Then your hands dropped below the table top to be grabbed and held again.

You joked, laughed, whispered into each other's ears. You had a future...together. You climbed back into your old jalopy, muscle car, or your Parents land yacht Ford, Chevy, or Buick- no seat belts back then, and if it was an automatic, well she automatically squeezed up against you. You had one arm for the steering wheel, and one around her. Every stop light was a chance to kiss... and amused quick beeps on the horn from the car behind you (not angry beeps like sometimes happens today) let you know the light had changed. When you looked up (embarrassed) in your rearview mirror, you saw a smiling face - an older male or female face- that, for a moment, understood exactly what you were feeling.

That first night, and all day the next day, it was to go to all the old haunts. For me and my girl, it was a trip up to the Old High School to walk the path between the Senior and Junior High Schools, a path we had walked, hand in hand, a thousand times in three years. Then it was off to the bus stop at the corner of Guessner and Walter road. The place we first met when she was in fourth grade and I was in sixth grade.

Then we parked the car in front of my old house, and walked from there to her house...almosts exactly a mile. We looked at her house from the outside, and walked back to my house, hand in hand, as we had done for so many year. Winter, Summer, Fall and Spring...stopping for a quick kiss and a brief memory: "...remember when you did this..." .

Then it was back in the car and up to Dairy Queen. Nothing like a DQ burger, small fries and a large coke with two straws. Again, you sat across from each other so your two hands could hold and play with each other- while your eyes twinkled and laughter poured out.

And so it went for a few days. Then...well, Life got in the way. Jobs, School, practical things...for some, that didn't matter- you are still together to this day. For others...well, it only lasted a few months after Homecoming...because one, or both of you grew while apart. Now that you were together again, you parted ways - and moved on.

That stuff all came later. Not at Homecoming. Homecoming was always about being together - parting would come later, if it came at all.

I hope you are standing there now...in an Airport, train station, bus station, or a front porch at her house...holding each other with that glow that youth and love forge. Savor it for a moment.

Homecoming.