My mum made a comment the other day that really got me thinking. I'm barely home at the same time as my parents. Hell, basically the only time I see my family is on sundays and I bloody well live in the same house as them.
Yet my mum said that it was different to have me hoe again. It's not my presence or anything, it's the little things, the trace evidence that I leave behind. My clothes in the laundry hamper, the smell of insence upstairs. My food and containers of leftovers that no one else knows quite what it is and refuses to touch it. The teapot that no one else in the family uses being pulled out on a daily basis. My shoes at the front door, my coats in the hall closet. Little bits of me scattered everywhere.
I think it's time to change that, I'm feeling more and more uncomfortable here. The long drive, the strange hours, never knowing quite what's going on in the house that I live in.
I think I need to get some control after all, leave that safe place. This will always be a haven for me, but I no longer really think it's my home.