Home is Where the [Insert Noun Here] Is
It’s an age-old conundrum, but maybe today I’ve figured it out
I’ve been back in Provincetown just over 24 hours.
Once again I’m overwhelmed by the idea that I can get in a tin can (or two, and then a hotel bed, and then a ferry) and end up in a place that feels every bit as home—but different—as where I get my mail, pay my bills, feed my cat, and shower, shit, and shave on a regular basis.
My Barcelona → Provinctown trips aren’t so much traveling as they are commmuting.
For this I am truly blessed. And even more grateful.
In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve had a cloudy and refreshingly cool sunset on the beach with dear friends I’ve know for decades. Reneé and I have known each other since New Orleans in 1984, and she introduced me to the guy who would be come my first long-term relationship.
I’ve gotten a Covid booster and a pneumonia vax, and won the Guinness World Record for longest hug at a CVS when I ran into another decades-old friend whose husband is in home hospice after fighting pancreatic (and more) cancer for over a year.
I’ve relived history, running into a mate who jumped off his bike in the middle of Commercial Street to give me a hug (it’s all about hugs today)…
