It was getting there that was the most surreal; just walking by old memories on every lane. The road turned into the driveway, and it was dark. The house was lit by the moon but the big tree outside casts its shadow over the path. Something felt deep and heavy inside, right around the gut area. For a moment it was just silent, then, she said “I’m glad you’re back. Let’s do something soon.” Closing the car door, the smell of the forest and the trees wisps past. The smell of home. The ground was soft, and you can see the grass grown in covering the stones scattered on the ground. The porch creaked and the dogs already barking from the car lights pulling in. 

Walking in and the walls are made of old warm wood. The ceilings lower than most homes and the kitchen a place of communion. Everyone was asleep, was the thought, but her brother awake and hard away at work while his computer lit him up. Sneaking up the stairs to a room that wasn’t her old one, setting her things up, she lied down. Looking up at the ceiling to a room about her old one. She imagined what it would have been like if this had been her original room. She didn’t like the idea much. Her old room was in the basement and had its own door. She liked this other room now as an adult. It had two closets and an oddly shaped ceiling with edges that would come down on different sides. It gave it character. The walls were a baby blue and an old painting of her hung on the wall. She remembered it well. Took her months of breakup recovery creativity mode to make that. It was never finished, but that’s probably because she painted her heart out until she was over it. It hangs there, unfinished, and no one wants her to finish it, her family never lets her finish any of her painting she didn’t finish in the past. Why? Because they feel it to be best for some reason and that’s that. She agrees with their logic and moves on with her life, although there they sit, just taunting her. 

It’s been months since she’d been home and this time is was for longer than usual. She’d normally visit for a week, say hi to everyone then go back out there, into the world. This time, things were different, she was older, and so was her family. Time feels fleeting to her sometimes after not being home to visit in a while. Her friends and family have visibly aged, as has she, although she notices it less. The moments spent together feel more precious and the gravity of the environment pulls her in a little. It’s warm to be around her friends from childhood. She falls back into her old goofy habits she morphed out of when around new company. She doesn’t have to explain to them why she’s different, they know. They accept her and there is no need to apologize or explain. Growing up with people helps you see them for who they truly are. They all went through growing pains together and watched how each delt with them their own individual ways but, together. 

Looking into the eyes of her friends and family, exchanging stories, or just sitting down and sharing the vibe. Being home was a vibe. Being back felt good. It was time to touch base. The creek and the trees needed a visit down the road from her house. Sitting and listening to the water rushing past like natural static to all her thoughts. Washing away anything she no longer wanted to carry. Taking it all in and realizing how beautiful her home was. How lucky she was to have gotten the opportunity to grow up here. The trees were just blooming as if waiting for her to arrive. The only place she’s seen flowers in the trees was at home. The smell of all the blooming trees flooded her mind with memories while she walked in a daze down her street. The grass and the leaves were the most vibrant of greens. It seemed as if someone dressed up the town for her stroll. Of course, they didn’t, they were just tending to their garden graciously every day. She was absolutely enjoying it.