“It’s not what it once was,” I said. We stared at the run down house, trying to imagine it in its prime.
I blinked back tears at the gaping windows and falling roof and porch overgrown with weeds. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
You placed your arm around me and I tried to stop shaking. As you squeezed me tighter, heaving sobs surfaced and I buried my face in your chest. I soaked the front of your shirt with my tears.
“It’s okay,” you murmured in my ear. Over and over, a mantra I clung to. I wanted so badly to believe you, but I knew it would never be okay.
They say you can never go home again. I finally believe it.