Cemetery Street

"Mom?" She engulfed me with another hug. "Did you hear that Joe?"

"Sure did," my father smiled. "Welcome home son." He extended a hand. Gray hair had grown across his mane like wild sage. His slender frame gave the first hint of a potbelly.

"Take that stick out of your ass and give me a hug." I wrapped my arms around my father. Squirming uncomfortably, he met my hug with a lame pat on the back. "How you been?" I asked my father.

"Fine. Fine,' he answered, axiomatic. "How are you?"

"Good. Good, couldn't be better." I stepped back and turned my gaze to Diane. "Lets get my bags and get out of here."

I was thankful my father chose the Blue-Route over the Schuylkill Expressway, avoiding the uncomfortable silence bound to befall us as we passed Laurel Hill. Shannie's ghost already hung heavily about us; it needed no more inspiration.

"We rented out the old house," my father reminded me. "We have good tenets."

"That's good," I answered.

"You can sleep in Shannie's old room," Diane paused, adding matter-of-factly, as if her daughter was simply out of town," or on the couch. Whatever you choose."

My heart raced atop the Beyford's exit ramp. Cold sweat sprung from my palms as we drove past Fernwood. Dim lights glowed inside the old chapel. It reminded me of a weather-beaten schooner; pitching and yawing over endless waves of tombstones as it sailed across the sea of eternity.

"How's Flossy?" I asked.

"No one really sees her. She keeps to herself. It's really a shame," Diane answered.

My father and I nodded in tacit agreement.

"And Bear. How's he?"

"He does his best," Diane said.

The glow of the street light at the end of Cemetery Street greeted us as we turned off Bainbridge onto the dead end. Like it or not, I was home again. Despite my attempts at creating a new life there is no denying the power of a lifetime of memories.

***

"Missoula, Montana?" Steve Lucas asked. "What the hell is in Missoula, Montana?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" I smiled.

"I think your brain injury got the best of you. You can't stand the cold. I figured you'd end up in LA, Florida, somewhere, anywhere warm, but Missoula, Montana?" Steve shook his head. "I dying to know what possessed you."

"Nothing," I chuckled.