Perhaps it is something in the November air, or simply the first November we have been apart since before we came together.
Last night I found myself unexpectedly transported to our old apartment, our home.
I know it was winter because I welcomed the heated air that wrapped itself around my body as I stepped into the kitchen from outdoors, and it was night- the lights were all on inside; this is also how I knew he was home.
I called Hello loudly down to the living room and he instantly rose from his chair and came out to greet me with a hug, ask me how my day had been- more than twice my size, his warm body wrapped me up entirely.
Retrieving things from my storage units I have opened boxes containing the smell of that home, the smell that will never be exactly created anywhere else ever. At first it was painful, grinding my self-made loss in deeper; now that the pain has become something smaller and gentler and part of me, I sink my nose into those sheets and clothes and bath towels- bury my face and do my best to breathe up every last molecule.
Sometimes, when we are emotionally strong enough, it is nice to visit these places we will never ever get to be any more.