To most people, it's just an old ball field. A backstop. A dugout. A scoreboard. A patch of dirt where generations of kids once played and more will follow.

But places don't only hold memories. They hold versions of us.

A child can stand on a ball field and see fear. Years later, that same person can return to the same place and see courage.

The field didn't change. The person looking at it did.

There are places like this in all of our lives—a school, an office, a house, a hospital room, a golf course, a hometown street corner. Places where something happened that we understood one way while we were living it and completely differently years later.

That's one of the reasons going back can matter.

We aren't simply returning to an old place. We're returning as someone who has lived everything that came after it.

What place from your past would look different through the eyes you have today?