The reverse trek home

July 9, 2025, was the day when the kids and I left the country last year, Ross staying behind to do a final house clearout and finish up work. The travel started off with some stress— two of the kids somehow left their backpacks at home, and Ross had to speed home on Loop 465 to get them. We anxiously waited, eating a last meal at McDonald’s, until he ran up the escalator with the bags just in time, and we rushed through security and away from the life we’d known.

A year later, we made a reverse trek. Were we coming home or leaving home this time? Hard to say.

This trip also started with some stress. We had decided to take the direct flight back from Dublin to Indianapolis (otherwise it would be three flight legs), but this involved taking a 3.5-hour Aircoach from Cork to the Dublin airport and a 15-minute taxi from our house to the bus stop. We had scheduled an XL taxi, but as we began dragging our bags outside, I noticed that the driver had cancelled. It took another 15 minutes to find a new driver, and by then we were pushing it on time. Another driver came, we loaded up bags in the pouring rain, and arrived about two minutes before the bus came.

Coming back to the U.S. meant an odd reversal of all the choices we made last year. We no longer have a car in the U.S., so we rented or borrowed. We don’t have a house and it felt weird to stay in a hotel, so we stayed with friends and family. Since I don’t have a U.S. phone, I needed roaming data (€18 for two weeks, not too bad). We had to locate a U.K.-to-U.S. plug converter, etc. etc.

We also no longer have U.S. health insurance, and our Irish plan has limitations abroad. My kids have a track record of getting sick or injured on vacation (ear infection, strep, COVID, flu, ceiling fan to forehead, all have happened) and there’s no way I wanted to pay a $1,000 E.R. bill. So, we purchased travel insurance that covered medical abroad (Spoiler: We had one swing injury, some altitude sickness, and several tummy aches but none bad enough to need urgent care, so that’s a win!)

Chapter 1: Indianapolis

So after all the prep and buildup (we were all excited for the trip!), we landed back in Indianapolis. It felt odd to be back in our home of 12 years, but after the first 24 hours it also felt… oddly normal? We cruised around our old neighbourhood and crashed our old pool. I ran into people I knew at Target and the YMCA.

It was, unfortunately, 95 degrees and humid the whole week we were there, so we had to abandon some of our outdoor plans for indoor ones. We arranged to meet friends on several days, but we also had several unscheduled days where we took it easy at the pool or met up with our kids’ friends for a second time. I wasn’t able to catch everyone I wanted to, but I did catch most.

Talking with people, you notice the vortexes that everyone’s lives revolve around, which yours no longer does. These trips often remind me of when I was young and would go visit my parents’ hometowns. I remember hearing my aunts, uncles, and family friends talking about people they knew, school, sports, and all the local town gossip. I would usually tune it out because either I didn’t know what/who they were talking about— or I didn’t care.

I honestly enjoyed hearing about my friends’ hobbies, jobs, kids, and travel, because I care about them. But there was also a twinge of something else— a reminder that I chose to step outside of the script. Outside of the relentless current of youth sports and activities. It’s a bittersweet reminder that we exchanged some known rites of passage for other, unknown experiences. We traded in for different destinations, new people, and a slower lifestyle with more room for spontaneity and casual hangouts.

The strange part about returning to a place you lived for so long is looking at it with fresh eyes. You notice what’s changed and what’s not. You hold up memories like photos and examine their value in your story. Remember when we… This was the place where … Remember how happy/stressed/young we were… ? It also means examining yourself and wondering if the place has changed, or if it’s you.

It’s impossible to catalog those years when you’re living in them, but returning to the place after some distance lets you translate those moments into stories, which settle into myth and family lore.

Chapter 2: Colorado Springs

Our second stop on the U.S. trip was a place where I’ve had plenty of practice at this. I lived in Colorado from 2005-2009, and return about annually. I now point out my college dorm to the kids, and Ross points out places he frequented growing up. Although it had been two years since we were last there, it still feels like a ritual we can easily step back into.

Our life there feels a lot more distant, but the great thing is that we can still make new memories when we go back. We came away with new memories from “Grandparents’ camp” with cousins and “Parents’ camp”, time in the mountains, T-ball in the park, and hiking in Garden of the Gods. Our relationship with the place didn’t stop when we moved away— it just shifted.

When I look back on four years in Colorado and 12 years in Indianapolis, I don’t mourn the house or the cars or the things that we no longer have. Our legacy was the people we built relationships with. It was always the people.