A Painful Charm

"It is comforting for [Hugo] to imagine that something still remains of what he saw when he was in his own country, and that all is not vanished. While we come and go in our native land, we imagine that we are indifferent to these streets, that these windows, roofs, and doors mean nothing to us, that these walls are strangers to us, that these trees are like any other trees, that these houses we never enter are of no use to us, that the pavement where we walk is no more than stone blocks. Later, when we are no longer there, we find that those streets are very dear to us, that we miss the roofs, windows, and doors, that the walls are essential to us, that the trees are beloved, that every day we did enter those houses we never entered, and that we have left something of our affections, our life, and our heart on those paving stones. All those places that we no longer see, which perhaps we shall never see again, but whose image we have preserved, assume a painful charm, return to us with the sadness of a ghost, make the holy land visible to us, and are, so to speak, the true shape of France; and we love them and call them up such as they are, such as they were, and hold onto them, unwilling to change a thing, for one clings to the form of the fatherland as to the face of the mother."

- Victor Hugo; Les Misérables; "Book Five: A Dark Chase Requires a Silent Hound"; "I: Strategy's Zigzags"; pg. 447

I imagine we can all relate to this quote. It is "high school goggles," or reminiscing about the good times when all you really wanted to do at the time was get as far as away as possible. Okay, it is not a perfect metaphor. I remember living in New Jersey and thinking how I would love to live somewhere else. When I spent four years in Missouri I found myself defending the stereotypically factory-overrun state. Truly, one does not appreciate what is had until it is gone.