Making Room - Part 1: The House & The Ghosts

I don’t think I ever relaxed there.

When we came home from the honeymoon, I had no idea how overwhelming it would be.

I sold my house to move into his, and moving into his house felt exactly like…moving into his house.

I didn’t feel at home — no matter what we changed, no matter if my furniture was there or not.

I felt vulnerable and exposed and completely unseen.

I felt displaced.

I felt like a stranger living in a foreign land with people who spoke foreign languages of father and sons and families.

Most of my things stayed in boxes until we separated.
There wasn’t space for them.
Every cabinet, closet, drawer, and room already had a history. A system. A place where things belonged.
I had a closet and eventually a downstairs room where I could have a study.

And there were ghosts there.

Ghosts of his lost dreams.

Ghosts of past hurts and disappointments.

There were ghosts of bitterness and angry words said long ago when he was married to her.

There were ghosts of little boys who lost their innocence and their family through divorce.

And there was the ghost of a good, good man with a beautiful heart who was still very hurt and angry because of it all.

Those ghosts terrorized me.

I wanted to grab all of us and run as far away from that house as we could. I wanted us all to have a fresh start. I wanted to get out of the darkness that lingered there and go to a place we could all breathe.

The only thing that brought solace was his smile, his hugs, his touch, and his presence. It was the only thing familiar in an unfamiliar world.

That little spot in the crook of his arm felt made just for me. It was my safe place.

And so I would hide there…and for a moment it would feel like I could breathe.

If we could start again — and oh how I wished we could — I would want it to be a quieter love.

A love secure in itself.
A love that is independent but — at the same time — together.
A love that allows space and breath and freedom.
A love that does not consume.
A love that trusts each other’s hearts.
A love that forgives quickly.
A love that sees one another clearly.
A love that leaves room for both people to fully exist inside it.

Because the rooms in that house weren’t the only thing that didn’t have room for me.

Neither did his heart.