When I lived in Savannah I'd go every third week. Now that I'm Douglasville I go a lot less frequently. It's a bit of a longer trip and I try to save the wear-and-tear on my old pickup truck--and my nerves. Though I have to say I timed it well so that traffic was negligible, so my nerves are relatively intact.
However, another issue I run into when visiting dad's is dealing with ghosts. Specifically Atari.
I have no memories of him here, in my new place, and I never go to the place where he and I lived together for eight years or so. But he went with me several times to visit dad.
And there his ghost still roams, around the fenced in back yard where he would wander around after we had arrived, sniffing out a place to do his business and also checking out the spoor left behind by the armadilloes, squirrels, turtles, and other creatures that wandered through there.
I can't look out dad's front door without seeing Atari lying there in his favorite place, where he could look out through the glass and survey the front yard.
I can't sleep in my old room without remembering him being unable to setttle down and go to sleep--he wanted to be home, in his usual place in the bedroom where he could get truly comfortable. So, when we would visit dad he'd spend most of the night tossing and turning, sniffing, hoping I'll wake up and take him outside for no reason other than he was bored.
Atari's ghost still haunts my dad's house and it's hard to go there to experience it.
I miss you, you big silly dog. I love you.
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