I drive from my house to my home.
Up in the cove will always be home, anywhere else is just where I happen to be living at the time. Every time I go it occurs to me that I may never really get back there. And every time I go, something seems to have changed. A field is flooded, for good. A tree falls down. The tractor shed blows away. Someone puts up another âNo Trespassingâ sign.
I turn down my parents road. A neighbor cleared off the lot next to the road. It looks nice, but itâs different.