I Was Back in the House This Weekend

Got to babysit the dog (and Mini) in the ol' house this past weekend while MS was out of town. So strange. Scribbled this down:

No less than three vases of flowers from Dude to MS litter the living and dining room areas. A list in his handwriting hangs on the fridge of things that need to be done to fix up the house. Bicycling and fitness magazines have replaced Scientific American and Game Informer in the basket on top of the toilet tank.

But I'm here for Mini. I'm here for the dog. MS is out of town, Dog doesn't like my place (she begins howling in a trip to take out the garbage), and we don't trust Mini in an empty house (there was a boob hickey incident trigger for that). So I'm here, in this home that was once mine, in a home that now feels like I'm visiting my parents. At least that's how I make it make sense to my brain.

Almost everything is familiar, but so, so distant. Empty areas abound. Dude's stuff punctuates certain places, like the toothbrush holder. The library is still empty of my desk and presence, but there is his bike. I open the fridge to a mysterious stock.

I wander in a foreign land, a place once my own home, never again.