Home Sweet Homeless

“To be AND not to be. That is a seriously unanswerable question, Loretta.”

“Shhh. I’m listening to the clouds passing. I could never hear that before. Could you hear that before, John?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. Probably not. Thunder I could hear. Raindrops. Clouds? I’m pretty sure that’s a new one on me, too.”

“Anyhoo, stop complaining. You know why we’re still here. It’s 'cause you love this place so much. Mr. Aquaman. Mr. Ocean.”

“We should have sold the house. They’ll just come knocking it down now. And then where will we be?”

“There’s lots of us outside. You keep saying you wish you could go outside.”

“Yes, but not and stay outside. That would be too weird.”

“We can adapt. You said it yourself when we moved here from the city.”

“Yes, and you disagreed.”

“But you were right.”

“I don’t know. Have you adapted that much, that you wouldn’t mind wandering the barrens, sighing with the long grass, watching people do what we no longer can?”

“I love you, John. Of course I’ll never love this place as much as you, but I’m still here because of you. I can’t move on till you do.”

“This imaginary heart, Loretta, sometimes it beats so hard it hurts.”

“I know it does, dear. You’re lucky I’m still here to calm you down.”

“I am, at that. I love you too. Truth is, even if I manage to let go of this place, I’d still have to let go of you too.”

“Here, you’re crying those make-believe tears again. Let’s snuggle up.”

“Roof’s leaking already. Pains me to see it pool up on the comforter.”

“Just pretend it’s the ocean, come in just to check on you.”

“Loretta, I can’t tell you how much I, how much I …”

“It’s all right, Johnny dear. Lay your head here on my breast. Now bide a while. Yes. Just like that.”

24 September 2026
Texas Jim
Prospect, Nova Scotia