My mother is a nomad, a homeless person who keeps all her possessions in her car instead of grocery cart, she doesn't use shelters, she uses her children's homes; home to her is to keep moving, to not be rooted anywhere to have no responsibilities, to be free to roam; a nomad.
It is like a game of 'button button whose got the button'. I am not certain how it is decided. Is it the weather that draws her to your house, a guest room, who invites and who declines or is declining an option?
My father is homeless too, but he isn't roaming he is sitting. Sitting at his son's home. My mother is enroute to that house or perhaps already there. Interesting she makes this a 'must see' stop, a place to stay awhile.
I wonder how the meeting will go, what is said or more importantly what is not.
Our parents are not divorced nor are they together.
That is the metaphor to our childhood.
It was a spot of nothing.
