A house is not a home

My ex-husband moved out a few weeks ago. I sit on our couch and...

Our Couch

We loved visiting Bob's Discount Furniture. Not only was the furniture priced well, but the location we frequented offered free ice cream. We each grabbed a small cup. His was chocolate, and mine was cookies and cream. (I was going through a cookies and cream phase that summer.) We took turns sitting on every couch in the store and debating what would fit best in our tiny two-bedroom apartment. Can you believe it? A TWO-BEDROOM APARTMENT! For the first time, our son would have his own bedroom. I finally had the chance to decorate his nursery. The crib had been sitting in storage for months. The apartment was small; the kitchen had almost no counter space, making it difficult to cook. It was near the woods, so oftentimes we would find spiders hanging by the back door. Tiny counter space, spiders, and all, it was a home, my home. My husband's home. My son's home. I wanted a white couch for our tiny living room, but we opted for brown because PJ is just starting to crawl and will probably be drawing on the furniture or spilling chocolate milk soon. (A wise choice.)

My son took his first steps by gripping the sides of that couch. My husband and I spent nearly every evening enjoying Marvel movie marathons or watching The Bachelorette on that couch. Those silly date nights in with wine bottles and too much brie cheese happened there. Friends would come over and sit on that couch, where we’d stay up all night laughing or playing board games.

The decision to get a divorce was made while we both sat on that couch.

...I sit on the couch and decide I will buy a new one as soon as I can afford it.

Pictures on the Wall

I know. It's time to take the wedding pictures off the walls now. I stare at them for a long time. I admire the way my dress sparkles. I notice how he is looking at me, so much love, so much adoration. I finally get the courage to take them down, but I don't throw them out. I gently place them in a tiny corner of my bedroom closet. I am holding them like they are the most precious and fragile thing in the world, like they could break in an instant.

Flowers and Fighting

Pink has always been my favorite color. As I type this, I notice my pink phone, pink purse, and pink water bottle. My husband didn't share my fondness for pink. When we first moved in together and began decorating our home, we agreed on most things except for the color pink. I wanted to incorporate pink into the living room or bedroom, but he preferred more masculine colors (which was fair.)

Once, I found some adorable pink flowers at the store. They were artificial but beautiful, and of course, pink. I couldn't resist. When I returned home that night with my pink flowers, I placed them in the center of our coffee table. "Now, isn't that pretty," I think as I pour myself a cup of coffee, sit down, and enjoy my subtle girly touches in the home.

One day, I came home from work to find my pink flowers had been replaced with a gray candle. "Nice try." I quickly find my beautiful fake plant and replace the candle.

"Much better."

The next day, the flowers were once again gone, and the candle was back. (This little game of switching our coffee table centerpiece went on for years.)

The first thing I did when my ex-husband moved out was buy a pink comforter for MY bedroom and place those flowers on the coffee table. "Perfect."

Time Capsule

After my ex-husband moved out, the house seemed like a time capsule of our relationship. His ketchup remained in the fridge, the junk drawers were still filled with love letters he wrote me, and Christmas cards addressed to us. A pair of his Converse shoes stayed on my closet floor. His shampoo was still in the shower. He left so many things behind.

But, I'm still here.

I'm still here, stuck in the same house that was once our home. This is the house where we celebrated birthdays and anniversaries. It's the place where we were so excited to discover a washer and dryer in the unit, jumping and high-fiving once we were alone. It's the home where we put up our Christmas Tree and made music together. We had plans to put a hammock in the backyard, but we never got to it.

Hmm, I just noticed one of his magnets is still on the fridge.