I Pulled Into the Wrong Driveway and Didn’t Notice Right Away

Dear Delyara, The house looked enough like mine to fool a tired woman. Same brick. Same porch light. Same recycling bin near the garage. I pulled in, put the car in park, and sat there for a second before realizing the front door wasn’t mine. The welcome mat wasn’t mine. None of it was mine. I backed out slowly, mortified, even though no one saw. But what stayed with me wasn’t the mistake. It was how plausible it felt. That’s how detached from my own life I’ve become some days — operating on pattern, not presence. Driving on autopilot into the nearest version of home because my mind has already moved on to dinner, mood, bills, tomorrow, always tomorrow. I got to my actual driveway and cried for reasons that had nothing to do with real estate.