My childhood home came into view. Fear started in my belly and overcame me. I resisted the urge to turn and run away as fast as I could.
Instead, I stood still looking at it as memories flooded my mind, leaving me breathless. What stood before me was a reflection of what made me who I am—both the good and the bad.
The structure beckoned, and I moved forward.
I circled the tree, the swing long gone. The echoes of my cousins’ ghosts cried out, “Tag, you’re it!” And was that a scent of apple pie I smelled? It couldn’t be.
Up the front steps, I go. The screen door hung crooked on its hinges. Without bothering to knock, I pushed opened the unlocked wooden door and stepped in.
“Hello, dear. I’ve been waiting for your return.”
The past I tried to run away from, met me in the present, and stole my future.
Love the photo. Great post.
Thank you Mary Ann – I thought the story represented the picture rather well 🙂
Remind me to my hometown as I am in another province now.
Thank you Sunardi for stopping by. I hope that remembering your hometown brought good memories.