A drop in the bucket

Home

"Yeah, I'm almost there. Talking and driving? Me? Are you crazy? Alright. Alright. Alright. See you in a bit, bye." Said Matt as he threw his to the passenger seat. He hummed a little tune to himself. It was a wonderful day. The best of all days. It was pouring rain, windy, and colder than the inside of a refrigerator but none of that really mattered. Today was great.

Matt slowly turned into a cracked cement driveway with an ease of familiarity. To it's side stood an average looking gray house. The paint was peeling on the window frames and there were a few railings missing around the porch giving it an overall drab feel. To Matt it was perfect and beautiful. He walked up the broken sidewalk that led to the collapsing steps of the front porch. Matt smiled his crooked goofy smile and looked at his reflection in one of the puddles that had formed on the beat up walk.

The memories flew back. He could almost see the yard in bits of its former glory full of life again. As he looked around the imperfections in this perfect house seemed to be fixed. As gazed into his memory he saw the glorious rolling railings and vibrant paints that once covered to house. He could almost feel the sun beating on his face from some many summer days he had spent out in that very spot. He quietly mumbled to himself

"It's crazy how fast everything can change."

Matt was almost 23 years old but had never felt more like a child. He looked up into the rain and slowly dragged his feet through the mud over to the porch steps and sat down as if he were five times his age. As Matt sat down he heard a long and familiar creak from the ancient wood he sat on. He let the cold rain soak his shirt. The icy drops dripped down his face almost like the tears he wanted to let out but couldn't find the strength to bring forward.

Matt slowly melted away into what he was so long ago. He recalled a distant memory sitting on those very steps in a similar fashion. It was both comforting and heartbreaking all at the same time as he recalled the simpler years of his life. As Matt gazed up again he no longer saw gray and dusty clouds but a beautiful sunset. The colors were vibrant; bright reds like that of a freshly picked apple, purples the same color as little violets, and above all a dash of bright gold that almost embodied the beauty of the sun. It could not have been any more beautiful if it had been painted by God.

Matt breathed in slowly and could practically feel the warm fading rays of sun hit his face. He slowly blinked and opened his eyes only to find gray stormy skies. The sunset was gone as we're so many other aspects of his life. In most ways it was a nice memory that filled him with warmth with its simple beauty. But that as he thought longer he realized that's what the problem was. It was only a memory, something he will never see the same way again.

Matt looked down at his shoes that but this point were flooded with water. The shoes reminded him of his faded memories. They at one point were vivid and fresh but were no match for the inevitable rain that turned them into the soggy mess he was looking at now. Memories fade in a similar way as the waters of life slowly pour down and wash them into nothing. Matt sighed not because of his shoes but because of the great sense of loss he suddenly felt. He slowly reach his hand up to grab the beaten porch railing that he was sitting beside. The cool black metal was nostalgic to his touch. As he pulled himself to stand he just leaned there for a second thinking of the innumerable amount of times he had touched that metal. It just seemed impossible to him that this part of his life was over.

Matt clenched the railing tightly to the point where his knuckles turned white. Suddenly he felt eighteen as he faded into yet another memory. He was grasping onto the railing as if his life depended on it. Before he had felt so eager to leave this place but now he couldn't bring himself to let go of the railing. He turned around looking back at his parents sullen faces. His mother turned her head so he could see she was crying. He saw. Her stark blonde hair flopped in front of her eyes as she spun her head back towards him and smiled with her beautifully heartbreaking smile. His father was standing tall and firm by her side. Even with his stoic expression Matt could still see the twinkle of a tear in the corner of his eye. Matt just nodded back at them turned back around, breathed in deeply,and let go of the railing.

Looking down at his white hand Matt realized he was back in the present by the crash of thunder he heard behind him. He turned quickly around to find nobody there but his conscience. He wished he had said more to his parents, wished he could turn back time. But he couldn't it was only a memory now.  That was the day he left for college. The day he left all of this behind forever. Every time his visited his parents since then nothing was the same. That part of his life was over and he could never get it back.

Why all this was rushing back now was a mystery. Matt stared back at the railing where his hand had once been. He watch the water slide down the black slippery slope just like how his childhood seemed to slowly be slipping away from him. Now Matt was crying. The tears dropped simultaneously with the rain. He looked up at the sky as if asking it what he was supposed to do next. As his tears slipped down his chin and into the puddle beneath him it seemed almost fitting, they, just like his memories fell into a great abyss and were never to be seen the same way again.

Finally Matt started to walk towards the door. He tried to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his once nicely creased button up shirt but found the fabricating made him feel more cold and damp. Opening the overshot screen door he went to knock and paused. He slowly breathed in and then out again as identifying to take in the moment. Matt quietly tapped on the ancient wooden door awaiting an answer from within. After what seemed like and eternity the door swung open. Standing in the warm inviting light was his dad. Upon looking at his mess of his son his father simply said

"Welcome home."

With that Matt looked up into his father's deep dark brown eyes. His father looked into his in a similar fashion as if examining his soul. After less than a moment he embraced his son in a hug, wet shirt, muddle shoes and all. Upon returning the heartfelt embrace Matt came to the realization that this was, and would always be home.