Coming home

Last night I didn't come home to an empty house. As soon as I unlocked the door, Lucy ran down the stairs and met me just inside.

Okay, she may be a cat, but it helps when you live alone to have a warm body there to greet you. And I know she'll always be happy to see me.

I never knew what I would find when I came home to my ex. Sometimes he would sit on the sofa glued to the TV while I carried in my bags. I'd barely get a hello. Sometimes he'd stop what he was doing and welcome me. And other times he'd be pissed about something he couldn't find or that I did or didn't do or his bad day at work. One time he didn't like a Facebook post from my trip and he shut me out of the garage and met me at the door yelling. It was always unpredictable. I dreaded going into my house that wasn't so much of a home.

My place might be rented now, but it's home. It's warm and inviting. Friends check in to make sure I made it okay and I know Lucy's always there and happy to see me - as long as I devote all of my attention to her, that is.

Single or not, everyone deserves a welcome home.

Love to the single girls,

Addison