There are layers here, layers of time and memory. Everywhere I look there are layers. I wonder if I’ve been homesick all along, if my focus on place is actually displaced homesickness.

On the other hand, maybe I’m just a “placed” person because I came from a real place. Because I did.

I’m thinking about all of this because I’m in my hometown, Lexington, Kentucky. I drove here yesterday, taking the mountain route.

This morning, out early, I drive to the old neighborhood. I walk around the block that holds my grammar school, where I spent eight long years. I pass the house where my friend Diane lived. We went to her house after school to make chocolate pudding on the stovetop. In my house we only made instant pudding. I was fascinated by the thin layer that formed on the top of the concoction as it cooled.

Back in the car, I search for a coffee shop and find one. This place was most certainly not here the last time I visited. It’s one more layer in a place that is full of them.