Nothingness has become my constant companion. The emptiness of not knowing who you are takes over and envelopes you. I have searched high and low for the answer to who I am that I am just tired of searching. I don't have the mental or physical energy to do it anymore. But yet, here I am.
As I head back toward my house at the end of my walk I find my mind wandering. It is wandering through the photo albums of my past. I usually keep these closed and locked up real tight. Remembering is almost a fatal proposition for me. These photo albums have faceless and nameless people from my past in them that I don't remember anymore. No matter how long I spend searching my brain to remember them I still can't seem to put the faces back on each person in the pictures. If I am not careful I will get lost in these photo albums for days before I come back up for air.
Rounding the last corner to my house I am watching for cars so I can cross the street. Something is lying in the middle of the street. It looks like a book but it is hard to tell until I am in the middle of the road. Focusing on retrieving whatever the object is I stop focusing on the oncoming traffic. It is not a busy street but I still manage to have to dodge a car in order to pick up the book and head back to the house.
As I walk up the driveway with the book in my hand and through the back door I notice that my reverie has been broken and I am not the only one up in the house anymore. I can smell the coffee in the coffeepot, and hear the news on the TV as I close the back door. I put the book down to look at it later and head into the kitchen.
"Good Morning, Darling. You left for your walk before I woke up. I missed you."