Home

I walk through my home and feel the emptiness of its walls. The floor is bare. There is no TV, no desk, no coffee table to stain. There is no history here yet. How soon does a memory become a memory? Does yesterday count? I feel as though I have been born into a new life. I can hardly walk, hardly talk. My fingers feel like foreigners as they trail along the wall beside me. This home was not mine but now it is and I know nothing about it. This life was not mine but now it is and I know nothing about it. I may sound like I'm afraid but truly I'm not. It's more I feel the intrigue and the excitement of this "choose your own adventure" story I'm writing. I have no idea what lies ahead. I have no clue how to do any of 'this'. All I know is I keep moving forward. I take one step at a time and I walk through that door into a light I do not recognise and I let it shine.