Coitus Interruptus

Winston wrapped his bare legs around his mother's waist.  One hand tugged his white t-shirt down over his diaper, the other a fist, hid his dirty mouth.  His eyes darted back and forth, eagerly seeking the contents of the house behind me.

"Hi.  My name is ___ ______.  I...we...used to live here..."

"Oh, yes of course, ____" I said as I grabbed the pile of mail sitting next to the front door.

"Believe it or not, there is a forwarding order for this address."

"Oh I believe it!"  I handed her a stack of letters.  "I've dealt with Australia Post before..."

"But that is not why I am here."  Winston wiggled in her arms, clearly straining to come inside.

____ explained, apologetically, that she and her husband separated last year.  He moved into the city.  Winston hasn't seen much of him since, but then, he never really did.  For the last year, Winston has been struggling with the concept of "home", continually asking to come back here, back home.

"It's been especially bad the last few weeks...and, well, I just didn't know what else to do...how else to make it clear to him."

"Would you like to come inside?"

She set him down, his bare feet flinching on the cold wet pavers.  He rushed toward the door, froze at the threshold.

"See, Winston?  Your toys aren't here.  Our furniture isn't here.  We don't live here anymore.  Do you understand?  We have a new home.  This lady lives here now.  This isn't our home.  See? Daddy isn't here."

My heart fluttered and sank as I shifted awkwardly in my robe.  I thought of my own constantly changing dream scape, of all the locations that represent "home" to me...of how they morph and blend so that some days I wake up not knowing where I am - or where I belong.  Yet, I am a grown woman, self-realized who consciously makes the decisions to set my life afloat in the name of adventure.  I am not a scared little boy with no stable shoreline against which to measure the tides of change.

Winston peered around the corner of the front door, scanning the living room, soaking in our camp chairs, soiled rug, and the $10 couch I bought off gumtree.com and covered with a moving blanket.

"Yes, Mommy.  It's a yucky house."  He turned and walked steadily back to his over sized SUV.

Fuck You, Winston.