When you leave for an extended period of time from home, you always expect to come back and feel as though everything has changed. When it hasn’t. You expect to come back and feel as though you’ve changed. When you haven’t.
To me, that is both the most satisfying and irritating quality about home.
Reality. Stupid reality. Left behind with nothing to do. Just sits around and waits for you.
It’s there when you get home. Just at the kitchen table, tapping its’ fingers. Flies up, engulfs you in a familiar hug, tells you “welcome back” “i hope you’ve had a good trip”. Reaches in to your chest until you run cold, tells you “but i hope you haven’t forgotten me” “i certainly haven’t forgotten you.”