First I found your house.

And then I found you on the Internet.
Now I scan the obituaries for your name.

I come in peace.

One day I asked myself what if I go down this street instead of that one.
I don’t know, only one way to find out.
And so I took Orchard instead of Dudley and nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw it.
This house is the only thing that could keep me in this city.
Waking up in this house would make life worth waking up to.
Coming home to this house would give me a reason to have left home in the first place.

I smell my lentils cooking in the kitchen.
I hear me typing in the front bedroom.
I see my sisters coming over to play pinochle in the front room.
I see the attic full of fabric scraps and skeins of leftover yarn.
I see me sleeping with the windows open in the back bedroom.
I see me crying in the bathroom.
I see me stretching on the front porch.
I see my laundry hanging in the backyard.
I see me letting the weeds grow on the side of the house.

There is only one place for all of this, for all of me. And you are living there. With your wife and your dog. You are young. You look fertile, like you might try and fill the house up with kids.

And so I must wait.