Why I Don't Look Back

I moved to Wichita almost 9 years ago from a small town about an hour from here. That town had 1200 people. Wichita is the largest city in Kansas. Well, big by their standards. I grew up on the East Coast and in Texas, and it’s clear that Kansans don’t get what “big” means. New York, Miami, and Atlanta are big. This is a large town.

The first house my husband and I ever purchased was in a small town. It was a 1910 section house, quaint but riddled with nightmares. Old lathe-and-plaster walls, knob-and-tube electrical, and wallpaper from the Renaissance. You get the picture. It was only 1350 square feet and had three bedrooms.

I saw a movie once called Picnic, with William Holden, I believe, and our home was in it, though back then it was only one floor. Another floor had been added some time later.

My dad came out once and loved the little place. He didn’t understand what it cost us to bring it up to modern standards. He just loved its quaintness and the small-town living. I think he secretly dreamed of a simpler life, and this was what we had.

Fast-forward to about eight years ago, when we sold the house to move closer to my son’s swim club. He was a competitive swimmer who practiced a lot. We found a house a few blocks from his pool. It was three times the size of the old house, and we needed it. You have no idea how much crap children accumulate over time until you have one. We also needed extra bathrooms.

In the old house, we shared one bathroom, and now we have several. We never again had to beg anyone to hurry up. It made sense, too, because our son was now a teen and needed his own space and bathroom. It took me a full year to feel comfortable in a larger space. It didn’t feel homey. It felt like a vast cavern we didn’t know how to live in. I eventually got there and made us a nice home and sanctuary. Our son was raised here.

For a few years after we moved to Wichita, my dad would always ask me whether I had gone back to see the old house. He wondered what had happened to it and whether the buyers were still there. I think he wanted me to hold on to it, in some way. I always said no.

One day, after he asked me that question and I returned with my standard answer, he asked me why. Why did I never go see it, go back to the house? I had thought about it every time he asked me the question about going to see it, and I gave him my answer.

“I don’t go back because it is a place long gone. We lived there, made memories, and now we are making new ones here.” I then said, “Dad, I don’t go back because what is past is past. I don’t hold on to things, just memories, and that time in my life is over.” I

I told him I prefer to look forward to the future rather than long for the past. It’s not that I don’t think about it; sometimes I do. It’s just that I prefer to live in the now, not the then.

I don’t think he ever asked me that question again. There was nothing to go back to, nothing to see. It was not our now. We outgrew the small house, outgrew the life we made there, and we moved on. The house now shelters whoever lives in it, along with their stories and memories. We are here, in our home.

In the end, it’s just a house. This place is home. Home is where your love lives and the people you love make memories. It’s the place you can’t wait to get to after a hard day at work, or the place you want to return to after a vacation. Home is where you are in the now, not the past. This is my home, my heart, my peace, and my sanctuary.

#lifelessons #life #home #movingon #growthmindset

(Published by: A Place Called Home, on Medium, June 2026)

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