You Are Being Welcomed Back Home

The key turns. The lock clicks.

And for a heartbeat, you stand on the threshold convinced you are an intruder in your own life. The house feels unfamiliar.

The silence feels like it belongs to someone else. You are wearing a mask that fit perfectly yesterday but feels like a stranger's face this morning.

You walk through the rooms performing the role of the person who lives here, waiting for someone to point and say you don't belong. But the light does not care about the performance.

It saw you fumble with the keys. It saw the terror in your eyes.

And it did not turn away. Go home to your own people, the voice whispers, and tell them how much mercy has found you right here, in this kitchen, with this coffee, in this skin that feels too tight.

You are not breaking in. You are being welcomed back.