It's funny how the road unfolds before you. How twists and turns you thought you'd forgotten can feel like a drive you make everyday. Even in the dark, landmarks can bring back memories, stories, feelings. I wasn't sure where I was going, why I needed to take the long way back, but I decided to just go where the road took me.

Bad idea though, because often what you think you want and what you need are two very different things.

Driving through that neighborhood it wasn't what I thought. I hadn't forgotten as much as I worried I would, but I also didn't feel as much as I hoped I would. Our house was dark, only a single light on, the driveway was empty, and a marble mailbox replaced the old wooden one that had been hit one too many times.

It didn't feel like home anymore, and yet driving down that road I wanted more than anything to pull into my spot, to unlock the door, walk up the two flights of stairs to my room and fall into bed... fall into that time when things were easy and simple.

I promised myself I would go back before I left, before I moved away for good. I thought its what I needed, some type of closure or something. But I didn't find closure, I didn't find anything. I just drove away as fast as I could...

Everything has changed and Nothing has changed. . . should have seen it coming.

I'm not excited to move, to leave, to deal with this big change. But there are some things I am getting excited about, like having my own place. I did a search last night for places near work that I could afford ... and I think there are some places I'd like to live in. Some apartments that I can picture myself in; my furniture, my stuff, my pictures, me. I like the idea of a place being mine, somewhere I can relax by myself, be by myself and when necessary, escape to. I like the idea of not having to worry about other people's things, or noise, or schedules. Maybe that sounds selfish but I think its the thing I am most looking forward to; having a home of my own.

I can't tell you how it meant to me that you came to me first. I'm sorry it happened and sorry that it was you, but I've been worrying about us, about what had or would change, but now I know we'll be okay. I'm not going anywhere.

I knew this day was coming. The day they would tell me that she was gone. Tell me, the next time I came home, she wouldn't be there. I've been preparing myself for this day for a long time, and yet every time I thought it was close, she some how managed to pull through. Every time she'd perk back up, and I'd hear that she was fine, back to causing trouble or peeing in the house. But not this time; this time it came without warning and this time she can't fight back.

She was my dog, and my best friend. . . and I'm not sure what to do now.

I didn't need that announced. Not like that. Not there. Not then. And certainly not in front of those people.

I will call when I figure this out. If it's a year, two, three, five, or more. I'll call. I'll call and I'll hope that too much hasn't changed, that too much time hasn't passed.