I'm going home this week.

Not really home in the sense most people think of, but my former home town. Clovis, New Mexico. Home of the Fighting Wildcats. And, for more than ten years, my actual home. I went to sixth through twelfth grade there-- not to mention a year of community college as I floated a bit and decided what to do (at least college-wise) with my life.

Up into the early 2000s, there were large grain elevators at the south end of town that read "Worley Mills," even though Worley Mills ceased to exist around 1990. And my family was related to the company.

There's a lot of history of Worleys in New Mexico in general. And there's definitely history for me in Clovis.

I can't remember the last time I went, but I know it was a day trip. It takes about three hours to get there from Albuquerque, so at least half of the day trip is driving. And maybe that's part of it. The separation. But the other part is haunting the old home town like a ghost. Drifting through the place, stopping at the hangouts, driving up and down Main Street (even though dragging Main is now against the law--because apparently kids today need even less of an outlet from the constraints of a small town).

And I'll do these things again when I'm there. It'll take me a few minutes.

I'm officially there on business, and, until around Wednesday of last week, I didn't think I was going to be making the trip.

I don't have any trepidation about it, I completely know how it's going to be. Even with a few cosmetic changes, the town doesn't really move much. But I didn't feel I needed to make the trip if it wasn't required.

Twenty years ago, I was in my senior year of high school. I was top drummer (seniority-wise) in the marching band, which meant I controlled the heartbeat of what would become the New Mexico State Championship Band in 1988. Our second state championship in a row. I had already been accepted into the Architecture program at Kansas State (my parents' alma mater). My future was set, to an extent, and Clovis was not a part of it.

In a small town (and Clovis isn't a village, it has over thirty thousand citizens), you either stick around or you get out. My whole family eventually got out.

Like the grain elevator, there are other landmarks my family built in the town. Most significant is a large house on the edge of town (still on the edge of town, even though a couple of developments have sprung up around it). The story of that house would be a good, if somewhat painful, novel. And I've never been able to write it.

The company I work for didn't know anything of this history. They were all from out of state, and so I was just a guy over qualified for the position he applied for. But many of the people at the New Mexico Lottery (which works with my company) knew my last name and some of the history. A few have asked me about it, talking about how their parents bought feed for their animals or just knew that the mill was a good, solid employer in eastern New Mexico. It's nice to hear these things.

The Worley name is no longer associated with agriculture in New Mexico. For the most part, those who were immediately associated with that business have scattered and left the state. There is still a Worley presence, although mostly in the Albuquerque metro area.

My cousin Mike is the head football coach at Rio Rancho High School (a suburb directly north of Albuquerque). My brother Aaron is a critically acclaimed theatre director, and it is rare that we go around town where someone doesn't pull him over and say hi. And even a few people around town (mostly in the music arena) know me.

But Clovis, my old stomping grounds, will get me for a night and a day. I've become "friends" with organizers of my twentieth high school reunion on Myspace and Facebook. A few people I knew way back then have become online friends. At least they are on my friends list. I don't know if I'm going back for the reunion. Haven't really decided. It's six months or more away. I have no idea what I'll be doing then.

But I know where I'm going to be on Monday night.

Matt Worley will be stopping by Taco Box during his visit, because that's where he stopped every day after school his senior year.