I pop back home occasionally to see the old place. I haven’t lived there for at least thirty years, and most of the people I once knew have moved on or gone forever.
These days I walk the streets and catch up with the ghosts. The trivial moments which mean nothing to anyone else but me. I notice the changes. The trees which once lined the pavement are no longer there. The town feels smaller. More tired.
I keep walking in hope, and now and then there is a familiar bump or dip in the pavement, and there you are.