Thursday, August 4, 2011

Door #1

Everyday when I come home from work I get the same anticipatory sensation. I never really realized it until today, but I get progressively more excited as I walk closer to the door, and put the key in the lock and start to slowly turn it. I pause as the lock clicks into place, as if I’m listening for something, or someone, and don’t want to barge in. My eyes close just a little bit, and for a moment I’m back in a happier time, long ago. I can picture the apartment the way it used to be, and I fool myself into thinking that maybe this has all been a terrible dream, and that when I cross the threshold I’ll see for myself that everything really is ok. I hold my breath and hope – I don’t want to go on in case I’m wrong.

I don’t know if this is the best or worst part of my day. Either way, it’s total denial. And it’s totally pathetic.

Of course eventually I open the door and step in. The door closes behind me and I lock it quickly. The apartment is completely different than then one in my head. And empty. Home.

I tell myself that one day I really will be excited to come home, and what’s more that there will be a home that is excited to have me. It’s just not now.

Big day in the OR tomorrow…I’m off to bed.

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