I walked around this morning while my son was getting ready for school. It looked the same. There's the couch that I helped to pick out. We picked out that table and those chairs. I remember the day we picked out the picture on the wall. This is my house.
This was my house.
Some things are different. You have to look but things are different. No more wedding pictures. No family pictures. Picture of the kids but not of me. I have been removed from my house. My house is no longer my house.
It is very strange indeed.
My apartment is down the road. I got the nice TV and the spare bed. I have four bikes in a tiny apartment. There are some pictures that I liked. I got some of the dishes. This place I live is just that. It is a place that I live. I have no home.
My home is where my son and ex wife live.
Don't get me wrong. I am happy to not be living there. I am happy that I am not officially divorced. I am happy with my life.
My home is now a place where I don't sleep. That's not my food in the refrigerator. The bad that I picked out and slept in for years is no longer a place when I am welcome. My home is gone.
I guess it is all part of the process.
I think about this on the day my divorce is final. The day that a new chapter of my life is being written. I have moved on and am content with my place on earth.
It just makes me a little sad that my home.... is gone.