Going back

They say you can never go back, right? Well, I'm between books at the moment - that is, my current project is being torn up by a colleague, and I still need to figure out how to move on from the first 30 pages of my next project. I've spent the time reading and working on other projects, but yesterday I took the day off.

I drove across the country to the sea, and it was a really, really great day. The roads were empty, I had Leonard Cohen's new CD on repeat, and the landscape slowly opened up around me as I drove until everything was flat and windswept and open. Then I got to the sea for the first time in years.

This particular place was where we went when I was a kid, and it brought back a lot of memories. Some of them good, some of them bittersweet. I've spent happy days with my family there. However, the day also made me think of my mother and a trip we made when I was pretty young. It was one of the last things we did together before her alcohol abuse got serious and I pretty much had to manage on my own. It hurt to think about that day, mainly because it's one of the few times I remember her trying to show that she cared for me.

It was also good, though, because I could go back - not to the past, but to a place that used to mean something to me. It still does, but I was able to accept the old memories for what they are and create new memories of a beautiful day on top of those old painful ones. Sometimes maturing isn't about struggling to improve, but about acceptance. Not forgiveness, not yet in my case. But perhaps I can get there as well.

Well, this post got a lot more personal than I thought it would be; I promise to be back on track in my next post. Until then: Don't be afraid to go back. Good things might come of