Going Home Part One - Chasing the Evening Sun to Norfolk

August 10, 2004

I was sitting in my favorite row - second from the back on the right side. It had the yin and yang of comfort: next to the toilet and the engine noise. For the comfort of an empty bladder, I wore earplugs.

The Southwest flight from Baltimore to Norfolk would last a brief 40 minutes. The storm-tossed flight from Phoenix to BWI had taken four and a half-hours. This puddle-jumper flight was just as bumpy as the pilot did his best with the remnants of a tropical storm.

The rain was normal for this time of year. It was hurricane season. One of them was expected to hit our area within a few days. I knew it would rain and flood in more than one way for the next 8 days of my visit.

Towards the end of the flight, the clouds broke away for a few moments and I looked down at the water as we chased the evening sun to Norfolk. It was slowly turning the small harbors and estuarial pools of the Chesapeake Bay from black to copper. One by one, they rhythmically caught fire and glowed for a few incandescent seconds before turning black again.

I felt a calmness come over me. So, this is how it's supposed to feel. I've been feeling this way for a few months now, but this moment made it real. I've wanted to feel this way ever since I left 24 years ago.

I didn't belong here. This was my past. This was no longer my home.

I suddenly realized I wouldn't be coming back here for long visits any more.

I didn't need to.

I was myself again.

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Going Home Part Two - Needed

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August 18, 2004

I depended on this place and my people through 21 years of my misbegotten marriage. Now, on the second anniversary of my divorce, I was flying out to Virginia to help my Mom make a decision. And I would have to be a total bastard to do it.

My trip was an official one. I'm the family seagull. I fly in, $hit on everything and fly out. God, I hated making these trips.

This would be the third and last trip for this purpose. I had done as much as I could on the phone. Mom wasn't listening to my brother Steve, my sister Diane or me. So, I was flying out to see my parents on a weeklong vacation.

It wasn't really a vacation and she knew it. It was an intervention. My father needed more help than what my mother could provide. Mom didn't want help, but she did. Her health was failing. She knew I was here to help her make the decision about Dad.

She also needed to see her older brothers. I look like them. Since I was a little boy, I've been the physical memory of the two older brothers she lost shortly after World War II.

Junie's (for Junior) and Billy's deaths struck my mother hard. She was the only girl in a Good Catholic Family. My being here gave her time to talk about her brothers and see them again. I hoped they were in my heart as I spoke to my mom. She needed her older brothers more than ever.

We talked about many things, but mostly about what was needed for Dad and for her. My brother, sister and I had discussed it with Mom for the last two years, but she couldn't make the decision. Hell, who would want to?

Finally, she did.

On the night before my flight out, my Mom and I sat in the living room sharing secrets with just a few words and a nod. We talked about her new life and what she would do in the future. We also talked about my life and my future. I told her I wouldn't be coming back for long visits any more.

My Mom smiled and spoke in her sweet, Tidewater Virginia accent. "Honey, I felt that as soon as you walked up the front steps. You're yourself again. That makes me happy". She leaned over and touched my hand. "I hope you find a good woman."

It was my turn to smile. A mother never stops being a mother. "Mom, I will. There's no worries there."

The next morning, before my flight out, Steve came by the house. We briefly talked about Mom's decision. He's the executor of our parent's estate. All of the responsibilities roll onto his broad shoulders. I've always been proud of my brother and, this time, I told him why. Godspeed to him and his lovely wife, Joyce.

As I plopped into my favorite seat for the flight to Phoenix, I felt relaxed. I had tied-up all of my loose ends. For the first time since I left here 24 years ago, I wasn't anxious about leaving my birthplace. I had waited far too long for this comforting feeling.

My relationship with Mom had changed during that week. I wouldn't be the family seagull any more. That self-appointed role was no longer needed.

And after all these years, I was finally going home... to my home.

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