Coming home to an empty house
Is sometimes a relief, a refuge of silence

A quiet place to come home to
After an exhausting and draining day
Space to decompress and recharge in the stillness

But coming home to an empty house
Is sometimes met with a deafening silence

No one to come home to
After an emotional or hard day
Met not by a hug, but by the echo of aloneness

It is a sort of paradox, that empty house
Silence as a comfort, but laced with desolation

Oh, how I long for the perfect match
One with whom the paradox disappears
The refuge of calm enriched by the presence of love

To be in tune with each other’s needs
Silence or laughter, whispers or song

When coming home to an empty house
Is just a temporary moment of solitude
Ushered away as love walks through the door

11.06.21

Looking back on this, written one year ago, transports me back to into the raw heartbreak I was carrying. I am settled into a place of peace and joy, and that season simultaneously feels like it was yesterday and years ago.