The house was too quiet. That's the part nobody warns you about. I'd just arrived back in the UK, leaving my child on the other side of the world. I came home to rooms that looked exactly the same: the kettle in its place, the crack in my favourite mug. But I didn't feel the same in them. I wasn't exactly sad, and I certainly wasn't fine. I was somewhere in between, no longer living the old version of my life and not yet sure what the new one was. You may know the feeling. It