Back from Maryland a new man, one feeling a kinship with the D.C.-ites, those who traverse lanes of traffic in a single swoooop to the left or right at 70 mph where the gray signs advise 55. Those who sit in traffic for 45 minutes waiting to clear two accidents within a hundred yards and scream to the traffic gods, "Come on, is that all you've got, I eat traffic delays like this for breakfast?!?" - or, rather, "I eat breakfast in traffic delays like this."

I can't tell you how many times I've driven through D.C. My mom hails from Hagerstown, MD and I spent every summer until I was 10 there with my grandparents. There were Christmas trips, Easter trips, birthdays, Thanksgiving, trips just to visit.

But things are different now. My grandparents passed away 5 years ago and my connection to the area now is my girlfriend, newly transplanted to the area where I spent part of my life growing up. It's weird to go back now. Though Beth is an hour away from Hagerstown, there's an air of familiarity floating around the affluent neighborhood she calls home. A stark contrast from the somewhat modest surroundings of my grandparents' house until a brisk breeze catches my skin and takes me back. Wiffle ball in the street, playin catch in the backyard with my uncle, waiting for Pappy to come back from his evening walks. I never lived there but it was my second home.

Since my grandparents died, I've only been back once. I'm not exactly sure why, maybe I'm afraid of the memories. Maybe my life is just fine not having to think about it, not having to miss Grandma and Pappy like I did ... like I still do. Maybe I just felt like that part of my life is vanished forever. But it's not. It's there and will always be a part of me; a part I should never let go of, a part that I should cherish and revisit whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Someone close to you moves to the D.C. metro area and you think to yourself, "free place to stay if I want to visit D.C.". I think to myself, "time to go home again."