Glorious.

I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones -- the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.

Beryl Markham, from West with the Night

This is bullshit, of course, but interesting to consider.  

In any way, possible or impossible, real or imagined, keep going back to the fields and forests, streams and seas of the glorious past.  Gods live there.