Once, this was a house where everyone came together. It was lively, entertaining, bold. The house itself, while being just a building, seemed to exude the same level of excellence and compassion as its inhabitants and their guests.

Now, however, it seems to be doing the same thing but for a very different reason; no one comes and goes anymore. There are no more parties, no statesmen arriving with messages from the King. Nothing that would ever suggest such a life was ever lived here.

I don’t know what happened during my departure but even the trees seem sullen and decrepit. Though they still do stand. There is an eerieness, a presence, that was not here before.

My house seems as rundown as I do re-emerging from my well-worn travels. I lost so much and now I reclaim a place that mirrors my own dismal state.

I wonder what awaits.