Mama I’m Coming Home

I’ve seen your face a thousand times 

Everyday we’ve been apart 

I don’t care about the sunshine, yeah 

‘Cause Mama, Mama I’m coming home 

I’m coming home…. 

–Ozzy Osbourne 


I thought I'd pick a mellow picture--nice to know there are a few of them out there with him not biting the head off a rodent...


 I wouldn’t call myself an Ozzie fan but my husband definitely is and has been. I gotta say, though, if you listen to the lyrics of even some of the “baddest” sounding tunes, they are quite fluffier than I ever thought before I really heard them. I mean, most of his songs rhyme. But he’s been through a lot so I’ve got to give him a pass on the lyrics. Somehow, though, despite some sadness to this particular song, there is something also triumphant in it that I like. 

I go through phases where I get VERY homesick. For everything. I mean, I’m 34 years old (omg?) and I still want my Mommy sometimes. And of course, I can’t wait for things like running with my Dad on the bike path that goes into the beach by my parent’s house and shopping with my Mom at the super ritzy mall where we mostly just look and maybe get some lunch or ice cream. And even though I live in L.A. where I can get the best quality produce around, I cannot wait to go to the fruit market we affectionately call Nino’s , with my Dad. I can’t wait to see all the trees, the green lawns that are a source of pride and/or scorn (depending on how it’s looking), and actually see the stars at night. 

It’s always a very nostalgic trip for me. But maybe moreso this time because this may be the last time that I spend time in my parents’ house. They are planning on moving out here asap which will be so great but also strange. As if somehow my childhood will magically go poof, like it never even existed. I will no longer have that direct line of connection to that world that I’ve preserved so well in my head. Sure, I will still have family there but it’s not the same somehow. I guess now with all the social networking sites it is easier to maintain that last little grip on the past. But of course, that’s not the same, either. 

So I’m going into this trip with an open mind and heart, ready to absorb smells, sounds, sights with as much precision as I can muster. What a strange trip it will be. 

Yogi says today: When ego is lost, limit is lost. You become infinite, kind, beautiful. 

I’m leaving my ego in L.A. this trip.


1 Comment

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One response to “Mama I’m Coming Home

  1. First the “She Talks to Angels” reference and now this Ozzie song–two of my favorites. How did you know? Kind of freaky.

    Anyway, this isn’t about my taste in music, so I shall move on. To be honest, this is one of my favorite posts you’ve written. It’s always hard to let go of a piece of your past, especially something as paramount as your childhood home, but that’s why you have the memories. The people are still there, so it just means it’s time to move on and make new memories in new places.

    It’s hard, as being an “adult” sucks sometimes, but home is where the heart is. How freaking cheesy is that? Totally, but you get my point. I hope.

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