Taking A Little Road Trip

I woke up early Sunday morning, dreading that I needed to make a trip down to the area where John and I used to live. I had errands that needed to be done there, and I'd been putting it off for weeks.

I initially planned on taking the hour-plus bus ride, but at the last minute I decided it would be more convenient to rent a car and drive.

A few hours later, I was doing 75 in a new red Mustang, the windows rolled down and the wind in my hair. The drive down was relaxing, but I knew the feeling was temporary.

When I came to the area where we used to live, it was an odd feeling — a little lonely, and a little spooky.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and I couldn't help but think that were we still married and living there, we would've been driving around in our convertible and heading to the beach for lunch. Maybe we would have been at what was once our home, swimming in the pool.

I did my best to not dwell too long on such thoughts. It's just not productive.

I thought about stopping to see a girlfriend of mine, but decided against it. I didn't want to stick around any longer than I had to, and I had a fairly long drive back.

Walking back into my apartment — my home — was a comforting feeling. This is where I belong now. There are no ghosts of the past here.

It's just me.