Maybe We Never Were

I turned down the street I thought I grew up on, and saw all the trash cans lined up and waiting, just like I had a week ago. We were coming home from dinner when it hit me again. A truth essential to our lives drummed up by the sight of 64 gallon cans, of all things. This isn’t make believe. We aren’t going home and for now, this is home.

The trash goes out tomorrow. Taking with it, one more week of anger. Taking with it, one short week of settling in, of sorting through my thoughts, and a dash of denial.

It’s over.

We. Are. Over.

Maybe we never were.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s