Honey, I'm Home

The house is quiet and cold. You are not here to ask me how my day was. You are not here to tell me about yours. I call for you but you do not answer. I walk through the kitchen and I cannot smell the dinners that you would cook for me. The vase of roses is still on the counter. The roses are dark and dried up with no signs of life. The dining room table is clean and clear. The usual sight of your purse, backpacks and homework are nowhere to be seen. The living room is still, pillows straight, blankets folded. The mess that I complained about time and time again I now wish for, knowing that you and the kids are home.

I walk upstairs to our bedroom. The air is stale. The bed is empty. The sight of you walking around the corner wearing lace or silk is now just a memory. The lighting is typical, unlike the many evenings I walked into a candle lit room to find you there waiting for me, wanting me. In the bathroom I used to watch you dry your hair wearing only a towel and sneak up behind you and kiss your shoulders. The towel would then gently fall to the floor and I would examine every inch of your naked body in the mirror. The same mirror that now only shows a soulless image of myself.

I throw my work clothes on the floor and begin my nightly routine. A long hot shower, usually with my head down, eyes closed, leaning against the wall. My head is filled with images of the long showers that we took together. You washing your hair while I rubbed soap all over your body. Watching the soap slowly slide down your chest, between your breasts and down your stomach. Taking the shower head and rincing your hair for you. Holding you from behind and kissing your neck as I gently run the shower spray down the front of your body. Feeling your warm hands on my back as you wash me. Us fighting for the hot water on those cold mornings or nights. The scent of your shampoos and body oils is now replaced with old soap and mildew.

I exit the shower and before I dry off I run to check my phone to see if you had called. Hoping to see a missed call or a text telling me to meet you for sushi, our favorite place, our date night, sushi and a movie. But the phone was silent, no missed calls, no voice message, no text. I opened my phone to see your picture, the first picture you sent me many years ago. You, in your car, wearing a white top with lace straps. Your hair pulled back, make-up is perfect. Your pink lipstick coated lips are pressed together as if inviting me to kiss you. Your silver hoop earrings shine in the sunlight but are over powered by the sparkle in your amazing green eyes. I look at the picture for several minutes, then say goodnight before I close it and put it and you on the night stand.

I crawl into bed, the sheets are cold and your side is empty, like it has been for months. I can no longer smell your perfume on my pillow. A pleasant smell that I had gone to sleep with night after night. Our evening talks, our passionate kissing, our romantic lovemaking have all be replaced with falling asleep watching tv or a movie. I roll over and stare at your pillow. I can still see you, laying there, your head gently placed on your pillow, eyes struggling to stay open. I can hear your cute, sleepy voice telling me to stop staring at you. I press my cold feet against you causing you to move your legs to the cold part of the sheets. Your cute sleepy voice has now turned into an even cuter little girl voice, including the pouting lips.

I close my eyes and replay the good times in my head. The weekend getaways, Palm Springs, San Diego. The times when we didn't do anything except enjoy each other. Coming home to you, waiting for me in the bathtub, covered with bubbles. You coming home to me in a candle lit house, warm fireplace, gentle music and a bottle of wine. Watching movies all day when it was raining. Doing new things together, new adventures, new experiences. Now I can only look at your pictures and listen to our songs.

It has been a long day and my head grows tired. There will not be a good night kiss. No warm body to hold. No one to say goodnight. No peaceful sound of your breathing. Another day without you has now been completed. Another day that I did not think I would make it through. You said that it would get better with time. The tears would stop and the pain would go away. I don't cry myself to sleep as often as I did. But the pain is still there in the hole in my heart. My soul is empty, like this lonely house.