My House is Dark

I just finished watching some TV. After turning it off along with the stereo, the VCR, and the cable box the room is dark. Not the pitch black of midnight, but the darkness that comes to your eyes after the light is taken away from the room. There is an envelope of silence. The room becomes still. Star is lying on the floor next to me. Not sleeping, but resting. She is soft and warm and stays still in the silence which almost makes me think that she appreciates the silence as much as I do. I get up off the couch and walk through the kitchen in the dark.

There is a feeling as the room is bathed in night time. A presence in the room, and yet I know the feeling is only in my mind. It’s the feeling of something missing from the room. From the house. There is supposed to be someone else here with me. Sharing the silence of the kitchen. Sharing the darkness of my house. Our house. It was supposed to be Our House. The place we chose above all the other choices to make our home. The place in which our lives were to have been joined together. The place in which our future was waiting to unfold.

I remember when we first came here. It was scary, but exciting at the same time. It was the first house I have ever been able to call “my own” and I loved being here.

But, as the saying goes, nothing lasts forever, and this is the proof. I am alone in the kitchen in the dark thinking about all of this. Wondering if I could ever put the thoughts down on paper as t’were. Well, here I am. Typing away in my room in the dark. Heh. In the dark again. Isn’t that
where all of this started in the first place?