I am alone with wine and a pre-heating oven; a dog at my feet - she loves me, a lot. Tonight, I am sad about being alone. The type of sadness that feels like a cold, gaping hole in my soul. It's breezy there...like the kind of breezy that blows through when you're pumping gas at Costco. The kind of breezy that steals your breath after rounding a NYC corner. The kind of breezy that you fight while running up an unsuspecting hill in the dead of winter.
After a highly energized week, I crashed head first through the threshold of my home. Friday night. This house is empty; gives off a feeling of no longer being a home. The kids' items are strewn around my kitchen, my family room. The more things I see, the more memories flood my mind. I pick up their things, with care, knowing the joy these tangibles brought my girls.
And so I've been told. But, when the pain of the past is staring you in the face, you have no choice but to turn around.
Sometimes I still think about what my life would be if I chose differently. If one day I turned fully around. This would never happen, but you can't help but wonder.