It's been 57 days since I discovered that my house was on fire.
Today is the first day I've been back home since the morning after it happened.
A lot of things have changed.
Walking back into a house that you last left blackened and covered in ash to find it renewed, different and yet to still feel it violated and ruined.
I wonder if I'll always be able to smell the smoke?
I feel like I let my house down by not being able to save it from this fate.
Corners of it still feel cold and damaged, the magnet on the fridge permanently fixed in its new melted form.
It's hard to explain why I feel so upset about a newly decorated house.
Maybe all the emotion from the fire is just finally coming out now.
My poor, beautiful house.
No comments:
Post a Comment