August 8, 2026
Little by little, my house is becoming my own again.
It’s not like I’m eliminating traces of my mother. It’s the little things I’m changing. Things most people probably wouldn’t even think twice about.
I can go to the bathroom with the door open again.
I can leave my toothbrush on the counter without having to put it away because she might use it, forgetting which one was hers.
I can keep my hamper in the bathroom again and just throw my dirty clothes into it.
I took the safety locks off the stove burners.
I put one of my shelves back up in the hallway without worrying that she might run into it.
I can hang my towels and my robe in the bathroom again.
They’re such small things. Ordinary things.
Things I used to do without ever thinking about them.
Now they somehow feel old and new at the same time.
And painful.
Because with every little piece of my home that I reclaim, another little thing I did for her disappears.
Every safety measure I remove is something I no longer need because she isn’t here to protect.
Every routine I change is one I no longer have to build around her.
And I hate that.
Her room is still the same. I haven’t touched it since she died. I’m not ready. I don’t know when I will be.
I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel right now.
Because what I’m doing isn’t wrong. I know that.
It’s living.
It’s slowly learning how to exist in my own home again.
But I never wanted my freedom back this way.
I never wanted the reason I could leave my toothbrush on the counter to be because my mother was gone.
I never wanted the reason I could take the safety locks off the stove to be because there was no longer anyone here I needed to keep safe.
Maybe that’s why something as simple as hanging up a towel can suddenly break my heart.
Because these little pieces of normalcy are reminders that my life is moving forward, even though part of me desperately wants to reach backward.
Little by little, my house is becoming my own again.
I just wish becoming mine again didn’t have to mean she was no longer here.