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Go Home

They say you can never go home again.

Well, you can. Only you might find yourself staying at a Travel Lodge, driving a rented Ford Contour and staking out your childhood home like some noir private eye just trying to catch a glimpse of the Johnny-come-lately that are now living in your house.

It ’ s a familiar story. Kids grow up; parents sell the family home and move to some sunnier climate, some condo somewhere, and some smaller abode. We grown up kids ’ box up all the junk from our childhood ’ s dusty ballet shoes, high school text books, rolled up posters of Adam Ant and wonder where home went.

I ’ m not a sentimental person, I told myself. I don ’ t need to see old No.3922,56 th Street before we sell the place. I even skipped the part where I return home to salvage my mementos from the garage. I let my parents ’ box up the stuff which arrived from San Francisco like the little package you get when released from jail. You know, here ’ s your watch, the outfit you wore in here, some cash. Here ’ s the person you once were.

After a year, San Francisco called me home again. I missed it. High rent shad driven all my friends out of the city to the suburbs so I made myself a reservation at a motel and drove there in a rented car.

The next day, I cruised over to my old neighborhood. There was the little corner store my mom used to send me to for milk, the familiar fire station, the Laundromat.

I cried like the sap I never thought I ’ d be. I sat in the car, staring at my old house, tears welling up. It had a fresh paint job, the gang graffiti erased from the garage door. New curtains hung in the window.

人们都说你再也回不了你的家了。

其实你是可以的。这样的话，你会发现自己将会住进寒酸的汽车旅馆里，开着租来的廉价福特康拓车，在你童年的家门口久久徘徊，就像黑色电影里的私家侦探一样，你总想窥探那些占了你“巢穴”的到底是些什么样的人。

这样的故事让你觉得似曾相识。孩子长大了，父母们便要把老家卖掉，搬到气候更宜人的地方去，住公寓或更小的房子。而我们这些已经长大成人的孩子，将所有童年时期的破烂玩意儿打包收拾好，包括已经尘封了的芭蕾舞鞋、高中时期的课本和已经卷好的歌手亚当·恩特的海报，可当我们收拾好之后，才惊奇地发现家不见了！

我对自己说，我并不是个多愁善感的人。我们老家，26街3922号，卖掉之前我并没有想再看一眼的冲动，甚至没有亲自回老家收拾车库里的那些纪念品，而是让父母帮我打包后从旧金山寄了过来。收到包裹的时候感觉就像出狱一样：这是你的手表，这是你在这儿穿过的衣服，这里还有些现金……你可以从这包东西看到自己的过去。

搬家一年后，出于对家乡的想念，我回了趟旧金山。当时因为房租太高，朋友们都搬到市郊去住了。我无处可去，便向当地一家汽车旅馆订了间房，租了辆车开过去。

第二天我便到处去走访那些老街坊。我旧地重游了街道拐角的那家迷你便利店，当年妈妈经常打发我去那里买牛奶，还有那熟悉的消防局和洗衣店……

我坐在车里，直直地盯着老家看。此时的我，哭得像个傻瓜一样，我从来没有想过自己会哭得那么凶。此刻的老屋，里里外外都被重新粉刷了一遍，车库门上的涂鸦作品也被抹去，窗上还挂起了新窗帘。

I walked up and touched the doorknob like it was the cheek of a lover just home from war. I noticed the darker paint where our old mezuzah used to be. I sat on our scratchy brick stoop, dangling my legs off the edge, feeling as rootless as I ’ ve ever felt.

You can ’ t go home in a lot of ways, I discovered that night, when I metup with an ex-boyfriend.

“ Great to see you. ” he said, giving me a tense hug. “ The thing is that I only have an hour. ”

What am I, the Lens Crafters of social engagements?

As it happens, his new girlfriend wasn’t too keen on my homecoming. We had a quick drink and he dropped me back off at my motel where I scrounged up my change to buy some Whoppers from the vending machine for dinner. I settled in for the evening to watch “ Three to Tango ” on HBO.

“ You had to watch a movie with a Friends ’ cast member. ” said my brother, nodding empathetically. “ That ’ s sad. ”

My brother and I met up at our old house, like homing pigeons.We walked down the street for some coffee and I filled him in on my trip. He convinced me to stay my last night at his new place in San Bruno, just outside the city. I’ll gladly pay $98 a night just for the privilege of not inconveniencing anyone, but he actually seemed to want me.

“ I love having guests. ” he insisted. So I went.

It ’ s surprising how late in life you still get that “ I can ’ t believe I ’ m a grown-up feeling ” , like when your big brother, the guy who used to force you to watch “ Gomer Pyle ” reruns, and owns his own place. It was small and sparse and he had just moved in but it was his. The refrigerat or had nothing but mustard, a few cheese slices and fourteen cans of Diet 7-Up.

We picked up some Taco Bell, rented a movie, popped some popcorn and I fell asleep on his couch.

我走到门前，轻轻地触摸了门把手，就像轻抚从战场归来的爱人的脸一样。门上那块颜色黯淡的漆，正是我们以前贴平安符的地方呀！我在砖面粗糙的门廊上坐下，双脚悬荡着，一种前所未有的无根感涌上心头。

是啊！有很多时候你是回不了家的。那天晚上我和前男友的碰面，使我终于明白了这一点。

“见到你真是太好了，”他见面就说，然后紧紧地拥抱了我，“可我有事，我只有一个小时的时间。”他接着说。

他把我当什么了？听起来像是快速配眼镜一样！

可想而知的是，他的新女友并不怎么欢迎我的突如其来。我们随便喝了点东西，然后他就把我送回了旅馆。我凑了点零钱，找个自动贩卖机买了些汉堡包，晚餐就这么打发了。晚上将就着在旅馆里看了电影台播放的《三人探戈》。

“你应该看一部由《老友记》那帮演员演的一部片子，”电话那边哥哥同情地劝我说，“你现在看的那部太悲了。”

我和哥哥在老屋门口见了面，就像两只归家的鸽子。我们沿着街道找了家咖啡店，我把这几天发生的事情告诉了他。哥哥说最后一天就到他新家去住吧，就在市郊的圣布鲁诺城。其实我很乐意住98美金一晚的旅馆，只要能不麻烦别人，但哥哥似乎真的很想我过去住。

“我喜欢家里有客人来住！”哥哥坚持说。于是我就跟着去了。

很奇怪为什么人们总是不愿意承认自己已经长大了。看看我哥，我还记得他以前一遍一遍地强迫我看那部老掉牙的电影《傻子格麦派》，而现在他居然有了自己的房子。哥哥刚搬来不久，地方不大，摆设也少，但却是他自己的家。冰箱里面的东西很少，有几根芥菜、几片芝士切片，还有十四罐健怡七喜。

我们在一家墨西哥速食店买了些食物，再去租了部电影，啃了点爆米花。后来我就在哥哥的沙发椅上睡着了。

Insomniacs rarely fall asleep on people ’ s couches, I assure you. I don’t know why I slept so well after agonizing all weekend over the question of home, if I had one anymore, where it was. I only know that curled up under an old sleeping bag, the sound of some second-rate guy movie playing in the back ground, my brother in a chair nextto me, I felt safe and comfortable and maybe that ’ spart of what home is.

But it ’ s not the whole story. As much as I ’ d like to buy the click about home being where the heartis, or as Robert Frost put it, “ The place where when you have to go there, they have to take you in, ” a part of me thinks the truth is somewhere between the loftiness of all those platitudes and the concreteness of that wooden door on 26th street.

I ’ ll probably be casing that joint from time to time for the rest of my life. I ’ ll sit outside, like a child watching someone take away a favorite toy, and silently scream, “ MINE ” !

我敢保证，常失眠的人是很难在别人家的沙发上睡着的。可是不知道为什么这次我却睡得很好，尽管我整个周末都在苦苦思考一个问题：如果我有家的话，那么我的家到底在哪里？我只知道，当我蜷缩在破破的睡袋里头，哥哥坐在椅子上看着蹩脚演员主演的电影，就在我的身旁，我会觉得既安全又舒适，或许家的一部分就应该是这样的。

但这些并不是全部。我可以相信诸如“家就在心中”这样的老话，也欣赏诗人罗伯特·莱特所说的：“家就是当你想去，人家就得让你进去的地方。”但同时我也坚信，真正的家既可以如陈词滥调所形容的那般缥缈，也可以跟26街那扇木门一样的坚实。

在以后的日子里，我可能还会不止一次地回到老屋门前徘徊。我会坐在屋子外面，像个小孩看到有人拿走了他心爱的玩具那样，默默地在心底大喊：“那是我的！”