Nothing was the same.
I suppose that I did not really believe, yet I expected it would be.
I was returning home to put distance and time between what I’d wanted for my life and what it had become.
As I stepped off the airplane a familiar tightening in my stomach. Exiting, single file past flight attendants, I kept my eyes on the floor to avoid their friendly smiles and cheerful well-wishes.
My thoughts a string of words from a novel I had been reading: “. . . the beauty and the misery and the pain and the struggle and the wreckage.”