Lost in This Moment
I stood staring silently at the front door. I couldn't touch it, couldn't open it. Not yet. I don't know why. I know he's not here. I know he's not inside. Why can't I go in? Isn't this what I'd wanted, what we'd been fighting about for weeks?
The bright sunlight gleamed on the golden doorknob, shining happily, mocking me. Maybe I'd feel better if it was raining. Yeah, maybe. Soaked to the skin, water leaking out of my boots, dripping off my nose. Yeah, then the weather would reflect my mood. But no, it's a bright sunshiny day. Figures. Damn birds are singing too.
Taking a deep breath I twisted my key in the lock and stepped inside. Two steps in, I had to stop. The house looked like it had been robbed. The bench from his grandfather that he'd been so proud to bring into our new home, our first house was gone. We'd set our baby's car seat there, thrown our jackets there, put Christmas presents there when we came in the door. Gone. Nothing but empty space.
The table to the left was empty too. None of the family pictures were left on it, all packed up, taken away. The living room was worse. All the pictures of us were gone. No more smiling couple posing in Old West costumes, riding motorcycles, posing on vacation, mugging in front of last year's Christmas tree. No more wedding pictures. All gone.
Slowly, in disbelief, I stumbled through the house. My stunned mind absently cataloging a missing recliner here, a flat screen TV gone from there, tools, riding mowers gone from the garage. Everything was gone. He had just up and moved out. Just like he'd said.
Slowly I slid down the living room wall, my stomach hollow, aching. I just couldn't believe it. I could feel the tears dripping off my chin, hitting my chest but I just didn't care enough to wipe them away. Why bother? He'd done it. He'd left. Sent me a text message of what he was doing and then done it. How do you deal with something like this?
Slowly, afraid I was going to break, I drew my knees against my chest, and laid my head down, letting the tears flow.