circles and loops, numbers and memories

I keep being pulled back into a loop. Circling around to the beginning that I thought had been the end. Numbers with dollar signs, if only I could feign a right instead of a constant left to claim them. 
Everyone is gone and somehow I’ve ended back here. This home that they cherished, this town that they adored, this place I ran from the moment I could. How is it I ended up the one to have to return? Asked to circle back, lured in by numbers. 
A few years here and a few years there, certainly nowhere long enough to plant real roots. One by one I’ve returned to them these last few months. Each home was a memory that the reality of visitng has destroyed. Memories keep better tucked away and not brought out to explore. 
Nights spent circling 4,000 square feet flipping light switches, turning locks. Numbers on an alarm to mark the end of a day. The same thing on a constant loop.
Memories of a tiny dog and a tiny house tucked away. Better to plan a future to explore than remember a reality that was destroyed. 
Maybe that’s the draw of the sea, maybe that’s why I miss the ocean when I sleep. There are no roots to be planted out there, the water always on the move. But then even the tide circles back, a constant loop even it can’t break. Better to be pulled by the moon than a memory I suppose.