Home Is Where The Heart Is

Part I

        I looked to the suburban residence on my left, everything about it seemed impeccable, from the freshly mowed lawn, to the vines trailing the archway that lead to a varnished wooden door. The house itself was elegant in its own right; its walls were spread with a creamy layer of paint, while its roof was overlaid with complementary pale pink tiles. Its numerous windows were arranged into a neat layout. The barely visible front porch was supported by a number of stone pillars, its floor composed of light mahogany. I say barely visible, because the residence was surrounded by, what looked like a nine-foot tall fence…how inviting…

        Despite the pointy sticks of doom, it somehow gave off a comfortable vibe. It stood like a sanctuary, inviting all who needed a helping hand…well all those who could get passed the fence. “This could very well be the one,” I whispered to myself. “What did you say dear?”

        I peeked at the sixty-something, soon-to-be-retired social worker sitting in the driver’s seat; her appearance has always bothered me. She wore a prim, beige business suit, while her hair was pulled back into a tight, tight bun, and when I say tight I mean it. Her thin eyebrows look permanently raised from how tight that knot is. No matter how many times I pestered her to at least loosen it into a chignon, I was always refused.  She said she needed to look as professional as possible, for presentation was everything to her.  Her appearance aside, she was quite dear to me; I mean, she dealt with me for all these years.

        She was peering at me with an expectant/surprised face expression. Oh right I was talking to myself again. “I said can we go out now?” I improvised, averting my eyes from her calculating gaze. “Eager are we?” she smiled knowingly. “Yeah right, I’m just sick of that perfume of yours.” I bit back. “I’m sure you are.” She said as she turned around taking off her seatbelt, I thought I saw her take a whiff of her clothes, as she did so. “Why don’t you tie up that hair of yours? You look like you just climbed out of bed,” she scolded. “It’s a test to see if this new family would be able to accept me in all my natural glory.” I giggled cheekily. She glared at me with her icy blue eyes. “If you’re not going to control that bird’s nest of yours, then I will!”

        I didn’t need her to tell me twice, I deftly tied my hair into a pony tail, using one of the many hair ties I have lining my wrist, say what you want, I call it fashion. Well not really… I’m just skilled in the art of misplacing them. I looked at the rear view mirror hoping it’ll satisfy the ice queen, I didn’t want to be tormented by one of her hairstyles. I shivered at the thought. “Will this satisfy you?” I presented, swishing my hair about.

        She inspected my hair in distaste. “It’ll have to do, now come on, we don’t want to keep them waiting any longer.” She picked up her little beige purse and a folder, while gracefully stepping out of the car. I sighed, glancing at the house once more. “Well… here we go again.”