First thing I'm going to do is drive down 264 to the oceanfront. I'll park the car somwhere around 40th St, kick off my shoes and walk down to the ocean. Then I'll shout, at the top of my lungs, "Thalassa!" I haven't seen the ocean, or felt its pull, in almost seven years, so it'll be that kind of almost religious experience.
I'll be leaving my job, my cat (a coworker's going to feed him and keep him company), and most (I did say that I'm visiting the wife) of the garbage behind. That'll be nice for a few days' peace.
On the other hand, I'll be leaving all this behind for a time. I'm staying with my parents, so I won't be able to dress. Well, I do wear panties exclusively, and a have few ambiguous tops and jeans, so in a way I will be dressing, if not in a very blatant way. I just hope Mom doesn't offer to do any laundry for me while I'm there.
This'll be a different kind of homecoming for me. My parents just recently moved out of the house I grew up in, into another house in a nicer neighborhood. I grew up in Cradock, a historic melting pot of a neighborhood in Portsmouth. Cradock's evolved into a cess, Crackhouse Central. My parents have moved to the ironically-named Churchland. It's funny in a way. When I was in school, there was a rivalry between the kids in Cradock and Churchland. Cradock was the older place, and a little rundown, while Churchland was where all the wealthier folk lived, and their kids were thought to be snobs (Some were
). Now my parents live there, so what, if anything, does that say about them? Or me?I'm debating whether or not to bring up anything about me and my dressing. It's always been a sore spot with Mom, but we've been open and honest with each other about everything else.
