Let Me Come Home

It’s when life becomes complicated, that’s when you realize that something has gone wrong. You’re not sure how or when exactly it happened, it just did and now you’re faced with uncertainties of what tomorrow will bring.

That’s why I’m here, standing on the corner watching—watching and waiting for some sign that she’s home and that no one else is with her. The cold emptiness that I feel inside of me right now is threatening to eat me alive and it reminds me of the cold desolate feeling of the dessert at night.

The cold lamp post I’m leaning against, is of little support or comfort—if anything, feeling the cold damp metal through my jacket, it makes me feel even worse. In a fit of rage and pain, I pull my hand out of my worn jean’s pocket and hit the post with the palm of my hand.

“How could I have been so blind?” I mumble out loud, as I rub my aching hand, but no one is around to hear me or even care for that matter.

She told me that she loved me and that she’d always be with me, by my side—I’d never die alone. But here I stood, so alone and miserable and she seems so far away. I suppose that I’m to blame, but it doesn’t change how I feel now. I’ve always had a tendency to cross lines, but that never changed the fact that I loved her, more than she’ll ever know.

The concrete curb offers little comfort too, but I sit down trying to figure out where things went wrong. Sara and I had been married for a little more than eight months. I knew when she said, “I do,” that she was taking the good with the bad, as far as I was concerned, and that made me love her even more.

I’ve always had a chip on my shoulders she had told me. I’d had a hard life, I suppose, and felt like no one had ever cared about me. I’d lived my life thinking I had to do it all on my own and no one had ever helped carry my load. But meeting Sara changed the way I looked at life, or at least it did for a while.

I hadn’t realized that I’d started slipping back into the same old negative routines, until a few weeks ago, when Sara told me to leave until I could pull myself together. Apparently, everyone around me had seen the signs and knew things weren’t going like they should be. A few of my friends even told me that they thought Sara might be seeing someone.

I couldn’t believe that. She promised me forever and I believed her—I still believe her. But, honestly, if I were her, I might be looking for someone else too. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a life with someone so negative all the time.

So, here I sit trying to find out if she’s seeing someone else and trying to figure out how I can clean up this mess I’ve made and reclaim my life. I want to run up to the door of the house and tell her to hand over her heart and let me come home.

But she said she needed time and that we needed some space to think about things. I feel like I could cry, but I’ve never been able to cry when I feel down. I’ve always been afraid of the sound so I’ve bottled it up inside all these years. But now, now I feel like I’m too young to feel this old. So I let the tears silently fall, until I’m letting all of those pent up emotions come out.

Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody sees me crying, no body but me. But maybe if Sara sees me, she’ll see that I’ve changed. She’ll know that I am capable of feeling and that I’ll try to not let it build up inside of me again.

So I get up, tears blinding my way, as I walk toward our home, back toward the woman that I swore to love forever. As I reach the door, I wipe my eyes and knock. The door opens slowly, and there she stands, looking so beautiful.

“Trey, what are you doing here? It’s late...are you okay? Have you been....crying?”

“Yeah. Yeah I have. Can I come in? I need to talk with you?”

“Okay.”

So I going inside and the door closes behind me and we talk well into the night and I open up to Sara, like never before. Will it make a difference? Only time will tell, but right now, I no longer feel the cold desolate feeling of the dessert at night inside of me.