"I have to go home now."

Home is an empty apartment with too many empty soda boxes stacked in one corner waiting to be ripped up.
Home is kid's toys littering my hallway, try not to step on that Hot Wheel I keep forgetting to pick up.
Home is every other week of coloring and kids shows on tv and patiently teaching my son how to tie his shoes.

Home is not how it used to be.

There is no screaming in my home now. No wondering if I am good enough. No empty promises of, "this will make our marriage work," when all the counseling in the world couldn't help.

Home is learning to be alone with myself for the first time in four years. Home is quiet with no tv to listen to in the background while my son sleeps at his fathers and my whole life is different than it was six months ago.

Home is strength in leaving. Home is where I will heal. Home isn't four walls, but the cavern inside myself I've filled with lies that need to be dug out of the pits of time and cleared with sage and home... just simply isn't what it used to be.

But I will rebuild.