last night in my dream I went back to that house. I walked through the garage door and turned to my left when I got inside the foyer to look at the front door that no one ever used. The dark brown wood was painted white and I felt resentful that something that once felt so permanent and solid had changed after all of these years. I walked into the master bedroom into the bathroom where the brown frond wallpaper was still on the walls. In the formal living room I laid on the floor and pushed my fingers through the fibers of the carpet, which still smelled clean, the scent of something newly vacuumed. The kitchen was bare, the pantry was empty and the plates were missing, probably packed into boxes somewhere, but I didn't see any.

when we were little we played house dressed in grown up heels. we took care of babies and chores while our husbands were at work. I was the maid of honor in your wedding, but I didn't cry because I hadn't developed a sense of loss; I couldn't feel the weight of change wrestling my heart deeper into my chest. I simply stood next to you in my pretty dress while your dad gave you away and I watched you drive away in your brand new radioflyer.

the memories inside that house are fierce. I stood in the middle of everything watching the sun rise and set through the windows, watching the dust settle in the air, watching your father walk in and out of the back door with barbeque prongs in his hand. His face was taut with youth, his body long and lean. He didn't see me. I was completely invisible. if I could stop the cuckoo clock on the wall at this very second I would because this place feels so safe.

I feel a knot in my throat and I can't swallow anymore. I hate that I am haunted by this and you act like it didn't exist.