Miles & Memories

Ch. 8 - Home

Kim trudged into the door expecting the usual silence and formality, but instead her father greeted her with a firm hug and her mother reached out to take her bag and let her hand linger just an extra moment on Kim's own.

The house was unchanged, nothing had been moved or changed, and Kim felt the subtle under the skin relaxation of being in a place you're known and perhaps, if possible, understood.

She scanned the living room, it's carpeting still perfect, with even the patterns of the fibers lining up symmetrically. The corner where her grandfathers things had been still stood erect and dusted but a picture of Rose and her funeral card were displayed along side it.

She was ushered into the kitchen were the smells of history and home greeted her like friends she had forgotten as her father took her things to her room and her mother put on the kettle for tea.

Kim struggled as her mom set up the tray with the traditional company only tea set wondering if her feelings of being home were premature. Her parents were treating her like a long lost relative or honored guest, and as much as she always wanted it, it felt foreign.

"Don't go to any trouble mom. It's just me."

The words came out on deaf ears as her mother continued to set out the cups Kim hadn't been allowed to drink from before. It was the set reserved for company. Always reserved for formal meetings, elders, and church officials. People Kim knew understood its significance and most likely deserved it.

"You are my daughter, and you have come home, unasked, and I am proud. Is it trouble to make you welcome and show gratitude?"

Kim nodded as her mother sat next to her and with steady fingers she picked up the small Jade cup. Her hand seemed large and as she brought it to her lips she wondered if all the things she imagined about the tea being magic from those cups would be true. She closed her eyes as she took the first sip. The hot tea dancing across her tongue and spilling unhindered down her throat. It was good, and somehow it did taste better. She smiled at her mother who then lifted her own matching cup.

"I haven't been gone that long, really. But it has felt like a lifetime, especially not knowing I was going to be able to come back for the break."

Her mother smiled and Kim couldn't help but feel like something new had been exchanged between them.

"It's felt like a long time here too, no one is messing up the floors or playing the music too loud."

Kim grinned. "I've missed you too, mom."

Her father stood hesitant in the doorway, peering and studying. Perhaps, Kim thought, remembering her sitting in this very spot years ago. She wanted to call him in and surround herself with his comforting presence but she was acutely aware that what was happening with her mother was a magic bubble. Tender and delicate and too sacred to break by inviting another.

Never before had she been the focus of her mothers busy life and although it was uncomfortable, she knew it was fragile and something she wouldn't dare break.

"Are you studying hard?  Making friends?  Do they accept you there?"

Her mothers questions pelted her leaving invisible dents. The weight of them fell heavy on her limbs and her heart. Of course her mother was concerned about her fitting in. It had always been that way. She never had to venture further than her own bedroom doorway to realize someone saw her as an outsider, it was her mother.

"I'm studying hard mother. As always. My roommate and I are quite close, I think you'd like her."

Kim glanced toward her father whose face was a roadmap of understanding. He gave her a wink, and she winked back. She faked a yawn to give her mother a warning that she was tired. And she was, but even more importantly, something inside her yearned for history. For being alone in her room under the inky blackness watching her father speak to the koi. Knowing the secret orange tip of light floating above his lips was forbidden and done only in the dark.

She wanted to turn back the clock, if only for a week and be the Kim she had been. If only to see if it made more sense now that she wasn't her anymore.  She set her teacup on the counter and slowly made her way down the hallway to her room. The plush carpet fibers wedging between her toes and turning back time in the way only home can.

Her bedroom still smelled of linen and lotion. The furniture seemed smaller, somehow even here she'd outgrown the girl she always was. By sheer habit she sat down at her desk and reached for the ornate gold brush with the etchings of letters everyone in the house knew the meaning of, except her.

She brushed her long dark hair thirty times. Each stroke an homage to the past her. The girl yearning to be beyond these walls. Now, in the stillness of the night with shining hair and a stomach full of tea she couldn't help but wonder what it was that made her want to run so badly.

As she changed into her pajama pants and worn out Journey T-shirt she opened her top dresser drawer and fingered the papers she'd saved like treasured jewels. Notes from friends passed in class, school pictures, and tickets from every movie she'd ever seen. It was missing something crucial and she tapped her fingers on the flat cool surface trying to place the gap.

She opened her knapsack and took out the bundle of letters she'd found in aunt Rose's car and placed them on the top of the stuffed drawer. It calmed her, having them there and she closed it gently stifling a yawn.

As she lay down on the mattress her body relaxed. This. This was the feeling she'd been missing for months. Having a place mapped out that you didn't have to remember or work for.

Kim rolled onto her side and reached out her fingers to part the wooden blinds covering the window beside her bed. There in the flow of a single floodlight was her father. Pacing in a slow shuffle before kneeling down beside the pond.

She imagined him telling the koi she had returned, tenderly and maybe with a bit of pride. His arched back so familiar she blinked to make sure she wasn't imagining it. There was no orange glow, and somehow, it was perfect.

As her father knelt in the moonlight she closed her heavy eyes. It was good to be home.