A Home

A year ago this weekend, my life began to fall apart. I realized this as I walked down the street one morning and started crying at the smell of spring in the air, realizing that it was this time last year, as the trees were beginning to bud, that my heart began to shrivel.

The year since has been the most challenging series of tribulations that I know so many have gone through, but would wish upon no one and never imagined for myself. It was an emotional, physical, financial, and spiritual gauntlet that at many times seemed unending and that I wanted to quit many times.

But life and time have mysterious ways of coming back. It doesn’t rain forever. It can take a long, long time. And things can be so, so bad. And the residue of trauma can linger forever. But there’s also a space inside you that you’ll learn how to access. There’s people who want to help you. There’s a way to get through one day and then the next one, and then one day, you may even feel happy.

The window I look out of when I write now is so much different from where I was before. It’s in my own place, in my own city, on my own terms.

It is, dare I say, a home.