In my head - No. 1 - Back on pleasant bay - april 2026

I am starting this series to share random thoughts that float through my mind. I wrote this about a month ago and am heading back this week. I am curious to see what my third visit will feel like.

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It’s been three years and three months since my father passed, and for reasons that are complicated, this is only my second time back at our family house on Cape Cod. I’ve spent the week just cleaning. Cleaning up, cleaning out.

The last time I spent any real time here was a few months before he died, when we had five days together. He was already slowing down and suffering from what we would later learn was a brain tumor. He smiled a lot and enjoyed holding my hand while we walked along our road. It was a beautiful visit that I am grateful for. 

Most of his stuff has already been cleared out, but I still find myself filled with this intense love and longing for him. It’s the small, random things that hit me. Like, remembering that his side of the bed was always the one closest to the bathroom. Always. Even in our very first house when I was a kid.

His bathroom was empty, long cleared out. As I went to close the door, I found his old bathrobe hanging on the back, likely missed in the hasty exit that preceded my return.  My shock in seeing it was as if he were actually there. 

I’ve set up my laptop in his old study. The desk and shelves are still dotted with the little trinkets, things that intrigued him—objects that mean nothing to anyone else but are heavy with memory for me. I feel closer to him here. 

I’m currently camped out in my childhood bedroom. It’s the one in the back corner of the first floor, the smallest, and the one with the most limited view of Pleasant Bay. It’s been freezing outside, but with a space heater and my dog, it’s perfectly cozy.

Everyone is asking what I will do with the house. I can't sell it and I'm not even sure I can rent it.  It's our house.  My house.