It’s like revisiting a memory that isn’t quite yours anymore.
It’s taken a life of it’s own, and the real people in it have changed for the worst,
and I’m left wondering,
the many yesterdays left behind.
I wouldn’t go as far to say that it’s sad.
Well, it’s not my memory anymore.
It’s a house that has been left unattended for many years.
The owners come back not quite sure if this is the house that belongs to them,
if in fact,
they belong to the house anymore.
Perhaps that is what has changed.
I don’t belong to this memory anymore.
I’m looking at it with the eyes of a child in a “grown-up” body.
It’s what happens when you don’t want to see things for what they are,
because you are afraid of viewing those that you love in any other way–
When you belonged to the memory,
and the memory belonged to you.