Back to England?

Although this song refers to people and a relationship, the title leads me into other areas of life and love. The main reflection in my mind is of my English family. I felt claustrophobic cooped up in a tiny island country, where four hours on a train had me from one edge to the other. In less than 24 hours, one could start at the very bottom and arrive at the very top. There was simply no space in which to travel. I knew it was not where I wanted to live my entire life. Yet, like the song titles, I keep coming back - to England.

I have only been back once so far, but my father is now in his eighties, and I feel that either my son or I should consider spending some time assisting him to handle the house and yard as he slowly and regretfully gives up on this or that task. I have no personal pleasure in thinking of dwelling in the country, though it would be far easier for me to flash my old extinct passport and birth certificate as proof, and just walk on home, to a place that is not really my home any more. My son on the other hand admires England very much. His brief visit in the year 2000 left him longing for more. He would be happy to go to live in my old room and keep him grandpa company, helping when needs be. However, my son was not born in England, and would therefore have certain immigration difficulties arising. It therefore looks like it will need to be me that makes the trip, unless my son and I can manage to afford to take turns.

Seeing the old sights of a hometown often brings pleasure to the mind. When I went back for the first time in around a decade, I found myself mostly empty of feeling, with only a mild tinge of sadness. England just is not the place where I am meant to be. I may have to make one more trip there, but I would rather assist my son to make necessary arrangements - after all, he would actually enjoy a long-stay overseas vacation. I would not. I am not being rude; I love my father. It is just that in these days of telephones, letters, photographs, and tape-recorded voices, even the computer illiterate can keep in touch. Whether I go back again or send my son, I keep coming back to the possibility of returning for another dose of a land that is fine if you like it, but simply does not suit me, personally. If I do end up going back, at least I will have the song to smile over.