For over a year and a half, the sign has beckoned me, and called to me. East of town, on the main highway, the road sign sings out the name of the community I've always considered my hometown, despite the fact that I wasn't born there, and didn't spend the majority of my life there. It is my hometown, though, because we moved there when I was a toddler, and, despite shuttling between my father, mother, and various foster homes throughout my childhood years, it was the place where we always returned. It was where I met my first love, only to find years later on my return that she had moved off to another city and disappeared from my life. It was where I bought my first car, got my first job, buried my brothers, and began working in politics. No matter how far I go, it will always have a place in my heart.

But the joy and fond memories mingle with a lot of pain, and a lot of hurt, and that has probably been the main thing that has held me back. As much as it represents fond memories and innocence, it represents rejection and pain. But the combination of both is probably why it remains, more than any place, "home".

Sadly, I'm only going to be able to make it back for a day. I hope in that time to rebuild a couple of bridges I burned, and to show my children a town that I've come to love more than any other. I know that there will be much of my childhood that has been torn down; replaced by something newer, better, and I'm prepared for that. But they will not, they can not, tear down memories.

On Sunday I will answer the siren's call. We will take the road back home, if only for a day.