I came back to my old house today. Some family members live in it now but I can’t help but feel the threads of my old life still clinging to the rafters, reaching down and tugging at my hair.
I hate the feeling of being home but knowing it’s not my home. I see ghosts of my memories lurking around each corner, ready to leap at me, catching me unaware and vulnerable to the reopening of wounds. But then, everything is wrong. Everything is rearranged and out of place. It makes my skin crawl.
I regret coming here. I wish I had never left but life goes on…
“Time is an odd un-graspable thing” (The Distant Hours, Kate Morton).
