A huge part of me is tempted not to blog right now. My emotions are so mutable–it seems that if I write about what I’m feeling at this moment, in another few minutes I’ll feel radically different…
As I sat in front of our rainbow bookshelves this morning and passed my eyes over each title, I said good-bye to our home and what it’s been to us for all of these years. By the time I return to our place, the books will be separated and sorted. And I doubt that I’ll ever have the desire to have rainbow bookshelves again.
But other than a moment of wistfulness, I was okay with leaving. There’s a part of me that’s looking forward to the new experiences that lie ahead, even if there’s occasionally a heavy aching in my ribcage that makes me wish this wasn’t happening. I don’t want John back (given all the hurt he’s sent my way these past few days, I’m quite ready to let him go), but I still feel some longing for what we had as a family, and of the sweetness we had in our home before he was so unhappy.