irrevocable

{Four}

seven // Taylor Swift

Holly

I enter my house and find Mom sitting up in the recliner, feet propped, watching some reality show.

"Look at you. Must be feeling good." I lean down to kiss her cheek then head to the kitchen. "I'll get dinner started. I'm running late after dropping the envelope off with Butch, but I've got some quick fix options." My pulse is racing remembering the look on Jackson's face as I stood toe to toe with him in the shop.

"Was Butch happy to look them over? I wish I coulda seen his face."

"He was." And so was his son, but I keep that tidbit to myself.

"Nostalgia can be contagious. Makes me want to pull out our family albums and remember the good times."

I hold back the scoff. We didn't have many good times growing up. It's always been just getting by, never trying to find happiness or joy. Never having any hope for something new or different.

I bustle around the kitchen pulling food from here and there to throw together a quick meal. I wipe things down as I go, while also putting clean dishes away from the drying rack and restocking the soap dispenser.

"You sure are a busy bee in there. What's got you so energized?"

I pause at Mom's question. Energized? I look around and see evidence of the multitasking I've been managing. A clean kitchen now clutter free. Dinner almost ready. Wow. I am energized.

"Just trying to be efficient." I answer but there's something niggling in my head about that. I did not have efficiency on my mind as I was moving about in here.

I shrug and grab our plates filled with a mix of leftovers and fresh fruit. I try to give Mom healthy options, but she's become pickier as the years go by. I hand Mom her food then sit near her on the couch. We chat about our days, minus the surprise reunion with Jackson, which I keep to myself, and finish our food. The T.V. show she's watching continues playing in the background and when Mom finishes her food her attention is drawn back to the drama. I begin clearing our dishes, tidying up the living room and suddenly get the urge to dust, wipe everything down.

"My, my. I haven't seen you this busy in a while." Mom comments as I flit past her.

Again, I shrug and smile. But once again, her observation makes me think. And I agree. I haven't been this 'busy' in a long time. Usually I trudge home and do the bare minimum. Just enough to get through the day. But tonight, I feel different.

I turn to glance over at the front door. When I walked into my house tonight, only minutes after seeing Jackson for the first time since I was little, I didn't need to pause when my hand touched the knob and take a breath. The seconds of peace I revel in while walking wasn't sucked out of me the moment I passed over the threshold. I smiled at Mom. I feel the smile living within me even now.

Was that all it took? Seeing Jackson again?

True, the interaction with Jackson left me shocked. The buzz of nerves haven't completely left me an hour later. But when I remember the soft look he gave me, the smile, the warmth behind his eyes, I can't help but feel...something.

Oh my god. Five minutes with him and I'm already different.

***

A couple of days pass by slowly. I find myself thinking back to Jackson at work and home whenever there's a quiet moment. It's the weekend now and I'm antsy, a foreign feeling for me. I'd recognize worry or anticipation, but pent up energy? No. That's not typical for me.