I'm staying in the house I grew up in this weekend.

I've been away off and on for a few years now what with school and other things -- at the moment I'm living a good hour from here because of work, but I had some buisness in the city this weekend and, rather than commuting down Route 1 I decided to stay here.

My family is away -- they've all packed up and gone on vacation so I'm here alone. My dad's car haunts the driveway because they all took the van. Other than that there's not a damn sign of life.

For some reason I decided to go in the backyard -- I havn't really been back there since my childhood where I used to play. Half of it is weeds now -- or at least more of it is overgrown than I remember. You can barely walk down one side of the house for overgrown vegetation.

I stood back there for a moment, looked at the swing hanging from the big Norway Maple that my father and I made. Then I walked back around the other side, and saw the tree.

It's a tiny little thing -- chinese maple I think but I'm not sure. Beautiful red foliage all year round. And I hadn't stopped to look at it, hadn't touched it, hadn't noticed it since I left elementary school -- freshman year of high school at the absoloute latest.

It's so much smaller than I remember. I used to climb up in its fragile branches and sit, it was an adventure. I almost did now, but for my nosy neighbor. A small tire swing hangs from this one -- definately not one that would support me -- and a hammock far too short for my six feet.

I don't suppose any of you care, but I felt the burning need to tell someone about this tree -- about this magical symbol of my childhood that had been sitting a few feet away from me all evening, is sitting a few feet away from me now, and that I had not seen, not truly anyway, since I was twelve.

My parents are cool people. I really can't complain about being at 'home', my childhood home, for the holidays. But the problem is, it isnt my home anymore. Every time i come home i expect it to be like when i left. It isn't. Every time I'm back in LA the sky is a little browner, the hills are a little more infested with clone houses. The neighborhood my parents live in is a little island surrounded by urban decay. It won't hold out forever. The oak tree i planted before i left is growing well - last year it started making acorns, and it's at least 12 feet tall now. It's beautiful but I know if my parents move out the next person to live here will probably mistreat it. My few friends here are either gone, or so different that I don't understand them anymore. Or more likely, I'm too different. They can't accept me like this.

It wasnt so bad until my girlfriend left to go back to work. Now i'm just alone. I find myself drinking my parents alcohol, moding, and listening to Less than Jake. I never drank in high school, but i sure make up for it now. I'm not used to being lonely.. but when i lived here i was. It reminds me a little too much of when i lived here - when i WAS alone. Now I have a life i can't complain about.. but it's 400 miles away. Tomorrow i will go back to my college apartment. Tomorrow I will go home. This isn't my home anymore. Visiting my parents is always good but this place doesnt mean anything anymore.