Hometown Blues

Going home, feeling sad, and sitting with it.

I feel all the things when visiting my hometown. Joy, gratitude, and love. Peace. Anxiety that I might run into someone while looking my worst. Laughing over shared memories with friends and family. Wincing at youthful shenanigans.

And periodic bouts of melancholy that often end with a good cry.

I spent the bulk of my childhood in Tampa. I attended the local university after middle school, junior high, and high school. (I left for Boston intending never to return, but four years later, getting pregnant and finding out I was carrying twins changed all that.)

In search of the best schools, my partner and I raised our children in just about every section of our hometown – from the entitled neighborhoods in the south, to more rural enclaves in the north, and amongst friendly immigrant areas in between the two, now called New Tampa.

Working as a political organizer, columnist, educator, and end-of-life doula allowed me to explore the more marginalized and underdeveloped communities, getting t…