Hitting the Road

Hard to move a friend off the couch and down the road, but harder still to make excuses after the seven-day deadline has passed and once-solid plans for heading north have turned into hunkering down in southern beach regions for the forseeable future. So you load up the laundry machine, offer use of a broom to clean out a firewood-strewn truck bed, and watch the clock for your spouse's return home.

One can be torn between offering a month-long couch squat to your oldest friend and recognizing that some people need to be shown the door when they can't seem to locate it by themselves. One can sympathize with an endless need to roam and wander while also grilling them on what exactly so frightens them about commitments and responsibilities. One can stand on the sidewalk with arms crossed as the ocean fog drifts into the neighborhood, watching as an air mattress becomes a bed, wondering if you'll see this very vehicle parked somewhere down the street in the coming days - wondering how that might make you feel.