For the past two days I have been camping out in Montville, NJ at the home of my Aunt Renee and Uncle Scott, and my cousins Elli and Nathan (their older brother Max is away at Binghamton). Montville is about a ten minute drive from North Caldwell, the town where I grew up. So, I’ve been taking Yonah to see the many places that mark the History of Mommy. I figure it’s good to do it now while he’s too young to yawn in my face and tell me it’s “Bo-ring…”

Our first stop was the house where I grew up, 48 Hamilton Dr. East. It’s a large, gray contemporary with lots of windows and a sweeping downhill driveway tailor-made for kamikaze runs on bikes, scooters and rollerblades. I arrived all ready to ring the doorbell, stick out my pregnant belly, have Yonah put on his extra-cute face and ask if I could poke around a bit for nostalgia’s sake. I was hoping that walking the wooden floors, hearing the familiar echo of footsteps in the cavernous living room and standing in front of the giant island in the kitchen would transport me back to a time when I was young, free of worry and my mother was still alive. Maybe I would even see her there, elbow deep in challah dough, the smell of chicken soup wafting through the house. It would be like no time had passed at all. But the driveway was empty. No one was home. So, after a few minutes of waiting, I took Yonah on the next leg of our tour, perhaps saved from the disappointment of seeing what was once so familiar forever changed.

Later in the afternoon we went to Temple Agudath Israel, the conservative synagogue where I spent almost every Saturday morning running through the hallways, sneaking cookies from the kitchen and making all kinds of mischief (age-appropriate, of course). Most of my friends and my family’s friends were a part of that community and a huge part of who I am today is connected to the time I spent there. Since I moved away, the building has undergone a full-scale renovation that is absolutely astounding. Wide glass doors mark the entrance, beautiful walls of stone and mosaic line the hallways, and the sanctuary, now enlarged, features the most awe-inspiring display of stained-glass windows I have ever seen. Even though there are remnants left of the place where I grew up, it was like meeting your best friend from high school after they’ve won American Idol, had major plastic surgery and hired a full-time personal trainer. The difference here, though, is that the essence of the place hasn’t changed. Many of the faces there are the same, and there’s still the same sense of family that has always been.

But it was a strange feeling, returning to Agudath. On the one hand, I longed to return to something familiar, something that reminded me of home. I could see myself slipping right back into that world as if I’d never left. And yet, I’ve changed in the years since I’ve been gone. While this was a world I once fit into as easily as that last puzzle piece, today my place is elsewhere. I don’t belong here anymore. The hard part now is figuring out where I do belong.