I can’t stop crying about my lost home that I loved

 I sold my home today. Had to go to settle a divorce thing. 

Soon strangers will be wandering around the spaces that protected me, felt loving, and provided so many smiles

Tryst another “worst day of my life.” Yeah, I know, I’m wracking those up at the rate of one a month recently. Still. 

I unceremoniously dumped the asset in life that means the most to me. My cats are spectacular, my home was deep, and my marriage was a mediocre piece of shit from start to insulting finish.  

My mute sociopath life partner. I mean, really. No help coming from that quarter, as we all knew. My parents refused to stay under her roof. They preferred to leave our parties at 2 am and take a three-hour Bolt bus home. Wise folk, my parents. I miss both of them on this lonely sad dreadful eternal day, very very much. I’m 70. Feels like this show is over. 

Meanwhile, a lifetime of repressed feeling is pouring out, so signing off my home is working.

I want to stand in this honored space and apologize to it for bringing a sick relationship there. My home deserved better. I want to kiss every safe surface. 

I want my home to know I’ll never forget what it gave me, no matter my remaining time here or where I roam. 

I want to share my tears with the floors…so part of me will always be there even when I’m dead. You are the best part of me.