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part of his story was I was trying to kill him, so he put a restraining order on me when I was moving out. I also wanted the deposit, and the landlady got my address to split it. It turned out, I lost closets and closets, blazers and blazers, yet it's icky to always think about that as I always do these days.
always the anniversary days: 1st of a month . whatever it was it itched, and that day was willow's birthday and it was a perfect South Carolina summer swim with the island all to myself. 3/4 because those were the days I came back. Then 9 was the night the kids left and had at it then 12 was peaceful sleeping then 13 was back out of jail and into a hostile world all alone.
my first thoughts were get him out and now my house for a month on his dime while I recoup, but I was insane. for some reason, I deleted his first email. well, the reason I gave is I wanted to talk to him not be dictated and grace as the co-writer of the note rankled me. all of that bit.
but the last night. it was so fucking hard that last night. the first night here that was also a doozypoo. yet, the gorgeous views, the television with YouTube and Netflix. the in between. it was surreal.
then you definitely wake up and wonder where you are.
that place was my home for seven years.
it is
what
it
is
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