*where all the green of life had turned to ash*

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The in-between is the worst. 

 Living in a home that's losing us. Losing the things that make it ours: the community cats, the white and green kitchen walls, the traces of our family tucked into drawers in the name of de-cluttering. 

 If I don't start distancing myself now I will bleed out onto the wood floor. The one the two of us pulled countless nails from at night after we'd gotten off work. The one that's marked by puffs clattering down hallways. What I walked over (and over and over) to get the kids to sleep when they were small.

 I'm hemorrhaging memories. 

 Eventually this will be an adventure. That Arizona house that's getting a new roof will be our new home (complete with a basement to cry in, of all things!) and I'll put on a brave face for the kids. Eventually I may even love it.

 But right now there's just this limbo. It's crushing me.
:: listening to "june on the west coast" by bright eyes::

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