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They say you can never go home again. I know that's not true, because for Hokies everywhere, each return trip to Blacksburg -- whether you were just there last week or last decade -- is like going home again.

When away from Blacksburg, it's like being away from home. It's like hearing someone say "I was born in Buffalo." Hey -- me too! It's that same camaraderie when seeing a Hokie shirt, a VT hat, in a place you'd least expect it. Hey -- me too!

However long you're away, deep inside there's still a link, that innate connection to Blacksburg, to Virginia Tech. And when you know you're going back? It's like Buddy Holly sings, "Every day it's a-getting closer, going faster than a roller coaster." A bubbling inside, growing more and more as the day draws near.

And on The Day, when all that's left is the drive there, the level of anticipation is again like going home. Just like there's landmarks, recognizable areas that let you know you're almost home, so it is with the trip to Tech. The VMI graffiti -- just one more hour! Those big hills and valleys -- just one more exit! Then, Christiansburg -- just one more town! And finally, your first glimpse of Blacksburg, of Virginia Tech. A big sigh, a big smile. Because you're home.

Your time spent at Tech is similar to a trip home as well. Old friends to see, old hangouts to re-haunt. For some, a trip to Tech isn't complete without nickel beers at the Balcony. For others, it's not the same unless you have some General Tso's at Chinese Kitchen. Everyone has one thing, special to them for one specific reason, that MUST be done in order for the trip to Tech -- to home -- to be complete.

Then there's home itself -- the campus. Pointing out to friends, spouses, children, what went on there; what class you took there; what wasn't ever there the last time you were here. Memories, stories, flashbacks, all set in Hokiestone in your mind. Remember that drunken Friday night outside Campbell? Remember sneaking into Lane Stadium one 2 A.M. to play football and boot field goals? Yeah, you think, there really IS no place like home.

And then you leave. After all the fun, the visits, the remembering, eventually you still have to leave. Because it's not really home anymore, but a memory of home. So there's a slight sense of sadness, of melancholy, as you pull out onto 460. The questions, possibly unanswerable: When will I be back? How long will it be? What ELSE will have changed?

But with that sadness, still a feeling of hope. Because you know that when you do get back -- whether it's next week or next decade -- it will still feel just like home.

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