pulling up

In order to leave a place with any kind of peace my heart must slowly pull away long before the leave taking happens. I look around the rooms as a stranger. No longer intimate with every inch I hold myself off and aloof. And then a moment happens and the space reaches out and holds me in a tight hold and it chokes me and I am connected with every fibre. The rooms are strange and sterile and yet, for now, we still live here. 

transplanting

Having a sudden pang. Of sadness, regret, the ache that comes with growing up and growing out. We have made a home here. And now we leave it all behind and start again. All over.