I do. I grew up in this little town that was like all of the little towns in all of the stories about America. It was a fantastic place to be a kid, all woods and rivers and nice people, and it was the seventies, so there was this nice background of classic rock and (older) kids smoking weed and drinking in the woods and stuff. 50% Dazed and Confused, 50% Freaks and Geeks. I loved it there.

We moved to a bigger city where I did most of junior high and high school, then after high school I moved 2000 miles to a giant coastal city, where I still live today.

My whole family back there had died by the late nineties, so I had no reason to ever go there until 4 years ago when I had to take a vacation because of rule changes at work.

...and I was amazed. The town was still very much like I remembered it, but it was not stuck in time. Most of the things I had liked were still there, but now it had new restaurants and some brewery/pubs and stuff, so it felt the same, yet contemporary as well.

I had that thing you were talking where I felt like I could breathe again...and this weird feeling of...connection, like my bones knew the rocks and the ground I was standing on and this was the place I was meant to be all along.

I did not expect any of that. I thought it would just be a run-down relic of something I once liked, but it was like it had grown up along side me.

When I got back I started really thinking about how I could go back. One thread that may lie ahead of me would be to head there once I am forced to retire, trading the big city hustle for that quiet and calm.

...and how poetic would that be, finishing off back where you started? A round trip back home, where I could be an old fart who watches the young kids coming up complaining about how there is nothing to do there and that they should move to a big coastal city.