Simply because darkness had fallen.

I made a cup of tea.

The refrigerator hummed softly.

Outside, leaves stirred

beneath the porch light.

I sat in Michael’s chair

and opened the window.

Warm night air entered.

The house held laughter again.

It also held boundaries.

Both could live together.

That was the truth

I had nearly learned too late.

Love should make room

for another person.

It should never demand

that you erase yourself.

Three days after David

and Sarah entered my home,

I placed their belongings outside.

A year later,

I understood what else

I had moved that morning.

Fear.

Guilt.

Habit.

The belief that motherhood

required endless surrender.

I had carried those burdens

far longer than any suitcase.

Now they were gone.

The house was mine again.

And finally,

so was I.

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