When I came home

Last summer

When I came home from Ireland..

My soul was hurt.

My self esteem was damaged beyond repair.

My heart was broken.

When I came home I trudged to church.

That's how I went everywhere.

A frown on my face.

A horrid attitude.

A soured state.

I wanted to cry.

All.

The.

Time.

And there in church I saw him.

In each mans face I could see him.

But this man had it all.  

His mannerisms.

His facial expressions.

Even his smile.

The man sitting in the chairs by the altar.

Triggered so much rage in me.

So I glared at him.

For weeks.

For months.

I didn't care if he saw me.

In my thoughts I set him on fire.

Because all I could see was the one who hurt me.

But one day

That man walked down the aisle.

I got a closer look.

And my heart stopped.

Wait.

It was the man from the coffee shop!?

He was nothing like the man who hurt me.

He was everything he wasn't.

Fast-forward to this summer.

And the man who brought out

So much hatred and bitterness..

Is now the man who brings out

Butterflies.

Love.

Hope.

Healing.

He is the man I am after.

And  one day

I'll be sure to tell him this story.

And apologize for glaring.

When we come home.