That chill you get when a breeze rolls by hits me quick and strong. It comes towards me from my right side. I can feel it crawling from my side, up to my arm; from there it crosses my chest, before it returns down my other arm to my side again. I look down to find that my arms are now covered in goose bumps. It’s weird but I quite like the feelings that it brings. My hair rises and falls with the breaks in the wind. The trees are scattered about the field I stand upon. They sway like my hair does. The sidewalk is new as well as the asphalt on the street is fresh. It has just been repaved.

I turn around to face the house. A tall gray edifice that stands proud and wide. My eyes scan the building moving slowly from left to right. I take in the wooden fence that swings open without a sound. The garage is large enough to fit two cars. Next, I see the front door that stands ajar. It’s light shines through the empty space and into my eyes. So dazzling and eloquent it is. The powerful vision can only be described as something more than beautiful. As I make my way across the driveway to the entrance of this empowering abode I begin to notice the tiny black ants and brown crickets that crawl upon the grasses that they call their home. It’s funny, the lush grass is home to these creatures regardless of how protected it makes them from nature or predators when our homes do exactly that.

Once at the doorway I pause, my breath is stolen from my body as if someone has just punched me square in the gut. The inside of the tall gray building is even more spectacular and regal than the outside. There are soft rugs and carpets, there are glowing laminate floors. There is no way this lovely home with its brilliant exterior and marvelous interior could any more breathtaking than it is at this very moment. I am lucky, that is what I am. I am lucky to even be here to see this, this home that I am standing in. I cross to a bookcase near the door and examine the blue, green, red, black, big, and small books that leave not one space uncovered. Quickly now I begin pulling books off the shelf as if I am searching for a secret switch behind the bookcase. Intrigued by one certain book I open it to examine its contents. The small black font crosses the page again and again while my eyes following with the words’ silly dance that ensnares me so.

When I have placed the book back on its original space in the dusty bookshelf I turn and see the face of a woman staring back at me. A silent, salty tear slides down her cheek. She beams at me as if this was the greatest present anyone could ever give her. She opens her mouth to speak but I quiet her with my arms. I wrap her up tightly with my arms so that they are upon and around her shoulders. She chokes up a sob as she nestles her head into my neck, and she squeezes me ever tighter. A strong perfume permeates my nostrils and ever so slowly it recedes. Her work suit shows that her job is very professional with her striking black heels and pinstriped jacket. This woman pulls her head back and places her hands on the sides of my head. She stares into my eyes just hoping to take in my image.

I feel the tear as it rolls over my eyelid starting to pick up speed as it falls over my cheek to plummet to the ground. I fear there is nothing else to do. I want to tell her how I feel yet I feel like all I can do is hold her, so I wrap her up once more. Our embrace says everything we could ever hope to say without a word being spoken. My heart races as it does when people are under the pressure of mixed emotions. Again we break apart however, this time I am the one to disengage. But before the silvery water can burst from my eyes I say the words I have been unable to say this whole time. The words I couldn’t say because I have been in this woman’s presence. It is with resolve and utter joy that I can finally tell her of the emotions I’ve desperately tried to bottle up. “Hey mom. I’m home.” With that, there is nothing left to say to her. She and I are together and everything feels just right.