when you go

it was like walking back into a house you once lived in,

after finding it was sold.

--

i knocked anxiously on the door

and she greeted me with wide, laughing eyes.

come in. 

you used to live here?

that's incredible.

she had put pictures up on the walls, the kind with flowers and laughing people in them.

 why hadn't i thought of that?

but then, she meant to stay

and i had never felt that way.

we walked through all of the rooms,

looked into all of the corners,

and nothing was the same.

i was glad of that.

i was glad that nothing looked the same.

i was glad that i barely recognized it.

when i left, she put her hand on my arm.

and murmured

thank you.

and i heard what she did not say.

thank you for moving out

so that i could move in.

thank you for realizing that it was better

if you didn't stay.

thank you for

not coming back.

this is my home now

and you were never meant to live here.

he was waiting for me on the front porch,

and he had that lazy smile on. the one that spread over his face like 

raspberry marmalade.

you good?

i nodded.

good. you were brave. time for sandwiches.

i laughed, and we walked off, down the avenue and back to the road.

he had flowers in his pocket.

and i realized they were the last flowers i had planted at the old house,

before i left.

i pretended not to notice.

but i knew what it meant.

when you go

take your whole heart with you.

--

this smidge of writing was based off of healing, and the people that help you get there.

to the girl in the middle of cutting ties: 

my darling, it's okay. 

you need to do it. 

the love of Christ is mighty, and His mercy is tender. so you are free to go.

and when you go

take your whole heart with you.

xx