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There was a bite to the air, a sensation like burning ice, as I drew a deep breath through my nose. Though winter had not yet arrived in Maryland, I could feel it coming deep within my bones.

I shrugged my shoulders to settle the folds of my trenchcoat more comfortably over the thick cable-knit sweater and hand-woven scarf I wore, relishing the feel of the insulated leather gloves sheathing my hands. Growing up in an arid, Southern California urban wasteland, I had always dreamed of having to bundle up in the fall. I detested sweating and wearing shorts in mid-November while the commercials on the television showed people wearing stylish clothes in the snow.

Slowly I wandered down the wet streets, a chill gray mist lending a softness to my wooded neighborhood. Clouds of smoke drifted through the boughs of gold and red leaves that rustled in the breeze, the acrid tang of wood burning in fireplaces enriching the crisp, clean scent of the scattered pine trees.

The weight of the damp air erased the distant noise of traffic. Now, the only sounds I could hear were the occasional scrape of my boot-heels, the swish of my trenchcoat brushing the wool of my slacks, and the irregular beat of water dropping onto the mottled carpet of leaves that littered the ground.

A sigh, deeply contented, rose as a cloud of vapor before me. For a few precious moments I had found a measure of peace, a soothing balm to my battered and bruised mind. The divorce was over and, though the wounds were healing, scars would forever remain. The anger and resentment, the pain and sorrow that had troubled me for so long had, if for only a short time, faded to an echo of loss.

Alone, I was not lonely. Stripped of a portion of my identity, I was again myself.

I wandered further into the gloaming, watching as the occasional light flickered into being beneath the shadows of the trees. I could hear the occasional laugh from the apartments, the muffled sounds of a man's questioning voice followed by a woman's answer, or the burble of a child's laugh. All these were the sound of warmth, companionship, and love.

For the briefest moment, I resented them all. But in my heart I knew that I was not ready to rejoin the ranks of humanity, too wounded and war-weary to be fit company for anyone other than myself.

I drew my umbrella from beneath my coat and opened it, allowing the now gentle rain to cascade in an obscuring curtain between me and the rest of the world. Turning away, I wandered deeper into the evening shadows, reveling in the peace and isolation I had so longed for a dreamed of.

I had finally come home.

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