Inventory of the heart

The smell of the sweet grass I burned last night still lingered this morning. It was the first night I have spent in my own bed since fleeing the crib over 5 weeks ago. A restless night in my now more than half empty pad, with an echo reverberating through the core and an emptiness in my heart too vast ever to be filled again. She left. She’s gone. But she took
The shower curtain
The curtains and rod from her room (not hers)
Every last roll of toilet paper except one
The cutlery my mom gave me- but only the soup spoons and knives (?)
My lamp from the living room

She left
A black cowboy hat
About 2 tablespoons of maple syrup from a one liter jug
A moldy take out container of Sweet & Sour soup
Various books:
“Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior”
“Awaken Healing Light”
“Each Day a new Beginning”
“Delivered from Distraction”
“Seven Spiritual Laws”
“GROWING UP”
65 glass beads hot glued to the bathroom mirror
(and two that fell off)
A broken window
161 nail holes in the walls

It’s easier to take inventory than try to express my sense of loss.

A question came into my mind last night, as I tried to focus on my breathing during yoga class.
Will I ever feel at home again in this place?
The answer, sadly, a resounding NO.
Our friendship, irreparably damaged on both of our parts, is over.
And so as well, any concept or vision of an urban family we once shared.
Gone.
May it rest in peace, and may we all heal from this experience, and each of us seek the help we need.