One size doesn’t fit all

Closets full of clothes mocking me with their mere presence. Hinting at a life long gone. Each item a memory from long ago. Business attire, blazers, skirts, dresses taunting me from the hangers. I run my fingers along the material and remember. I remember the functions, the charity galas, going in to work. And then I look down at what I am wearing; sweatpants and an oversized tshirt with fuzzy socks. I sigh as I turn away, making my way to my prison cell/ home office. There my three computer screens await. My life, the four walls of my office. The silence broken by my fingers tapping against the keyboard. My heart grows cold, my brain numb as I pull up yet another document to work on. My life reduced to this small home, jaunts to the gym, going for a walk or to the grocery store and occasionally seeing my grown children. Longing for meaningful conversation outside the confines of work. I turn yet again to look at my closet full of clothes as a single tear makes its way down my cheek.