I sat outside those doors and thought of the last time I was in this place.  Me waiting on him to come back to us.

There was no excitement  for me this time.  I remembered the last time I was so relieved and thankful, I fell into his arms and cried.

I felt…well…nothing this time.

I had a sense of deja vu.  Not knowing what had been done beyond my reach.  What secrets would be later revealed that would hurt me and destroy what little love I have for him.  I wanted to be any place but there.

I’m happy he is home because single parenting without the benefit of being able to fuck who you choose is for the birds.  So I filled him in on what he missed and tried really hard not to look bored with his homecoming.

My heart keeps its own secrets and I pray his are never revealed to me.


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