And we just returned from our second night’s walk. Maybe 2 miles. Maybe not. I am focusing on the positives of moving closer to work. Staying busy with the work on the house helps. It keeps my brain occupied. The body busy. Night time is full of sleep for the weary. The good is there and I know it.
But the last two tenths of a mile tonight….. I pictured my house. My home. The one I’m not returning to. I saw the lights on the wood floors and counter tops. The pictures of everyone, every where. But mostly I saw the people standing in it. Sitting in it. Laughing in it. Living in it. I couldn’t help it. It is home. It was home. My kids were little there. I lived and triumphed there over so many things. I found strength there. I found peace there.
And I left.
As good as what being here will be, it’s still a process. And the last part of tonights walk I couldn’t help but wish I was walking up those three wooden steps, across the deck and not a porch, in the door, past the washer and dryer and in to the room I have lived so much in.
It was a moment. A moment I am sure I will have plenty of. They’ll probably decrease as time goes on. I don’t mind having them. I can handle them. I just don’t want to forget them. Or totally leave them behind.
My time there was precious, fully, empowering, not always easy, but always mine.