It’s a very old story, the story of the prodigal son. It comes from the Bible. It goes like this.

A son tires of his home, gets his share of the inheritance from his father early. He skips town and lives big for a few years, but the money runs out, and he comes back on his knees.

In the story, the father opens his arms to his lost-cum-found son. He puts clothes on his body and slippers on his feet. He puts rings on his son’s fingers and slaughters the fatted calf. His father prepares a feast and welcomes him home. It’s just like old times.

In the story, nothing changes. Home and the son and the father—everyone and thing are just as they were, never mind their years apart. Everyone except the fatted calf, of course.

But the story doesn’t say why he left. The story doesn’t really say what happened while he was there, and the story doesn’t say what changed while he was gone. The story isn’t much of a story.

In this issue, five writers deal with what it is to come home, why it is they went away, and what changed while they were out.

“. . . what has happened to me that I’m not drawn to that fluffy and spirited terrier anymore? What did that nation do to me that I’ve lost the passion to spoil her? Where did I get the heart to resist that wittle face?

“. . . but whatever things haven’t been right since I got back—I spent five months of my last school year overseas—and it’s probably better that I get home while I can still drive there. I have a case of beer in the fridge. I figure I’ll get drunk at home and work that fat lump over on the keyboard.

“ . . . these are the things that pop into my head at unknown intervals, like flashbacks in their poignancy, taking me entirely out of the present and flung into that stinking sweaty mass of moments from the best time in my life.

“ . . . I looked at the empty seat next to R. We’d requested seats next to each other, but instead got two across the aisle. We hadn’t switched, despite the empty seat.

“ . . . while I’m dodging a real job and he’s dodging the real world, there are people going home in increasing numbers with each passing graduation date. Is it the economy or is it just that our generation is full of slothful, ambitionless children afraid to grow up?