Homegoing

It's February and I'm at JFK boarding my JetBlue flight back to Atlanta. I have a mask on and everyone is looking at me like I'm crazy... or possibly concerned that I may have the virus from China. Unfortunately, I find myself on this journey alone after suggesting to Remy that we get our own places. We can afford it and I thought it would give us a chance to work on some things. The heart wants what it wants and sometimes two hearts don't agree. It's beautiful outside as the sun is rising and the snow flurries are beginning to fall. It's absolutely beautiful outside. The captain announces our take-off will be delayed as a truck approaches to spray the wings down... Finally, in Atlanta, it's freezing but not as windy as New York. I hop on the Marta gold line and head straight to Buckhead. I'll have to sleep on the floor because the furniture won't arrive until tomorrow but I'm no stranger to inconvenience. Walking into my apartment for the first time I feel welcomed. The row of windows along the living room wall is for lack of a better word inspiring. The next morning after the furniture arrived I took a trip to Atlantic Station. I went to H and M looking for white dress shirts. I find two quickly and head for the exit. Something about this store doesn't sit well with me. I'm not sure if it's the overwhelming amount of overly active 20 something gay men lurking behind every shirt rack or the image of the young black boy wearing a monkey T-Shirt that's forever embedded in my memory. I miss Primark, I miss New York. When it comes to any type of fashion they seem to always be ahead of the game. Unfortunately for everyone outside the five boroughs, Primark does not do online shipping. Walking back out of the store I see four white tents set up across the lawn. I see my people with tables set up and I'm hoping to find some treasures. I head over and at the first table, there are two young ladies. I can tell by their eyes that they are smiling under their mask. I buy some Nag Champa out of kindness or support I'm not sure and head to the next table filled with gems and crystals. There's a woman with gorgeous locks sitting at the table. As I approach she stands and starts to straighten her assortment. I'm taken back, there are so many beautiful pieces. My eyes land on a display of sterling silver jewelry and I find one ring that’s too big for any other finger except my thumb. The woman says "oh you found one!" I smile. I like how simple yet elegant it looks. I collect sterling silver pieces not only because of their durability but more so because of my nickel allergy. I recall a big fight years ago about a promise ring I refused to wear from ******* because it was gold-plated and therefore in my mind inconsiderate. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted love, I’d wear a paper ring at this point. It’s funny how the brain clings to experiences. It’s as if my feelings are so desperate to feel something, anything. I make a note to create better memories. My father's birthday is approaching, he doesn't know I've decided to move to Georgia. He was transferred from the ICU to a rehab facility for his physical therapy. I think a visit from his only son on his birthday would be heartwarming I hope. My Dad's sister Hera is calling me. I wonder if she knows I'm in town. "Hey Auntie, how are you?" She responds and she's quieter than usual. "...Hey Nephew, it's Grandad, he's gone home..."