Can you really go home again?


This is the most surreal and mildly unsettling feeling I’ve encountered in as long as I can recall.
I’m in the house I used to share with Aaron and it’s a strange emotional encounter. It’s not my house anymore. I feel like a guest. I think I’m glad…
If I’d come here and felt immediately comfortable, I would have an entirely different set of emotions to handle and the ability to go through my stuff would’ve become impossible. As it turns out, I’m being productive today- my first day alone in the house- and am mercilessly going through mountains of paperwork, loads of knick-knacks and other miscellaneous flotsam that’s been left behind for months. I managed to live very comfortably for a third of a year without these things and in doing that, I gained the courage I need to be ruthless in my task at hand. I’ve also found that the routines are completely broken. I didn’t know quite what to do when I woke this morning. The sleep was good, aided by a pain reliever, and the mattress was comfortable, (it was expensive when we bought it years ago), but the comfort tapers off there. I’m a guest in this house I decorated. I’m a guest in this house with my shared pets. I’m not even using my computer to type this.
I am not home anymore.

He sleeps in his bedroom upstairs- the same arrangement we’d devised the better part of a year ago. He woke and went to work as usual. I didn’t hear a sound. I slept soundly and woke to a headache and no food for me… I must go to the store. I didn’t expect there to be anything for me, but the half asleep shock at how little there is in the pantry for a single fella to live on was a bit of a harsh truth for me to realise. Though I’ve left him with many comforts, (the house, the furnishings and electronics, the pets, the cars), I have left him alone. That hurts to see. I know he’s ok, (he’s honestly doing ok), but the realisation of seeing a bachelors’ pantry and refridgerator are truths I hadn’t prepared for. We still care for each other and the friendship is what kept us together for so long, but the urge to take care of him is one I need to fight a bit. I have not a maternal bone in my body, but the desire to help those I love is strong. We want the best for each other, Aaron and I, and I can see that he’s fine. It’s important to see it after being away for so many months. He’s moving on with his life and I with mine. If there’s only one thing I could take back with me, I’d take that knowledge. We made the right choice. I see it here all around me.

I need to get back to working on the house. I have the daunting task of so much to go through. I miss my comfort. For a minute this morning, I wanted to go home. The difference is, it’s in the UK.
My home is England…