To the house I grew up in,

 

Packing my boxes

Getting into my car

Driving away from your walls that raised me

I look back every so often

To peer through your windows at my childhood

And see that your paint is still chipped

And your fence is still leaning

And the roses won't grow

In the garden

That we planted

For hours

 

But now when I return to you,

Something has changed:

I sense that the flaws have grown deeper

Than an old paint job  

And dead flowers

The air is

different, tense, unfamiliar

A deafening silence has settled in

That echoes dad's snores

From the couch

And mom's sighs

From the dinner table

Doors that once let sunshine flood your hallways

Are closed to conceal tension

And spite

The walls that once glued you together

Seem higher now

Thicker

A layer of eggshells dusts your floor

Threatening to be crushed

By the heaviness of words

 

So no one speaks

 

When it’s time to leave you again

I do not part with you nostalgically

But I escape you wishfully

(I’m sorry)

 

Repacking my boxes

Getting into my car

Driving far into the future

I put distance between me

And your walls that raised me

Only this time

When I leave you

 

I do not look back