Saturday, June 05, 2010

The Stumbling Return

Driving into Huntington, West Virginia, from the east, yesterday at around 4 pm (Eastern Daylight Time), Bob Dylan on the iPod plugged into the car stereo, black clouds in the western sky.

Driving into the upward slanted driveway just to the right of our house (if you're looking at the house, in front), big drops of water like childhood tears beginning to splash inches apart, intermittently, on the windshield, on the roof of the car, on our heads as we got the dogs out & headed indoors.

Close flashes of lightning like mirages appeared in our peripheral vision, in vague reflections on the windows of our house & the empty house across the street, the sudden thunder following loudly, rumbling us & telling us that the lightning was touching ground very near our own.

Emptying the car with an umbrella's handle held between chin & right shoulder, rain getting all over my back, running down my legs, soaking the trunk of the car.

Giving up, calling the mother to tell her we're home safe, three thousand miles travelled in eight days.

Smelling an unusual home, thinking it looks more empty than we remembered it to be, smelling like dust & wood, still familiar & warm, & of course happy to see the cats, which (we are happy & grateful) remember us & greet us immediately.

Back home again, such as it is.