Home again

This is ancient history. I unearthed this recently, thought I would share.

The snow glistened in the partial light that his home cast, shimmering and reflecting it so that a dull
haze enveloped the young man as he cut the ignition to his car. The automobile was a weathered Chevy
Monte Carlo, a good runner, and caked with the off-white clumps of snow he had collected traveling
down the interstate. No on every much cared about the conditions of the roads, anyway - the salt trucks
and snow plows lay dormant in their assorted service garages in the wee hours of Christmas Day. He sat
there for a moment, taking in the ambience of the scene that lay before him; snowfall, not to heavy yet
not too light, dusting the already existent blanket of white, houses without lights on save for the many
twinkling displays and decorations. He exhaled, and saw his breath as if puffed forward like a miniature
man-made cloud, dissipating and disappearing as it moved farther away. Content with himself, he
opened the car door, knocking loose a small shower of fine powder. He closed the door and saw for the
first time the fruit of his wife’s labor - a dazzling display of Christmas lights, intricate and pleasing to the
eyes. Wooden reindeer silhouettes were cast on the northern wall via a bright spotlight. He chuckled,
imagining her trying time and time again to get the angle just right.



He had traveled long and far. There had hardly been anyone on the road in the past twelve hours, and
he was not at all surprised. Anyone, under normal circumstances, would have long been with family by
now. His particular situation, however, had been somewhat beyond his control; job offers and
consultation work had kept him on the other side of the country for a great portion of the year. But, at
long last, he had returned. Everything was exactly as he remembered it, and he savored that simple
moment of familiarity. The only thing that differed from his memory of saying “good-bye” to her was, of
course, the half-foot of snow. He started toward the house, and nearly lost his footing - that first step
leading up had always fooled him, and he couldn’t help but to laugh out loud. How I’ve missed this
place…he thought to himself. As the distance between him and the front door dwindled, he could see
clusters of pointy icicles hanging overhead. The opaque columns of frozen water refracted the light,
giving some a homely blue hue, and some a festive red. The door was open - she had been expecting
him. He was somewhat relieved that she had left it unlocked, too; he didn’t fancy sifting through six-odd
inches of snow to find the key under the Welcome mat. Although, knowing his wife, it would have
probably been that “Happy Holidays” mat she had found in the basement when they moved into the place.


He stepped into the hallway, and promptly shut the door. Immediately, he was greeted by a gust of
warm air - a very welcome greeting indeed, considering the fact that the heater in his car had broken
somewhere back in Pennsylvania. The interior of the house, as well was almost exactly as he
remembered it. She had replaced the drapes, he noticed, and there were several wreaths hanging here
and there. He pushed back the arm of his coat, and saw that his watch read 2:37 AM. She’s probably
asleep, he thought. As nimbly and soundlessly as he could muster, he opened the closet and put his
worn leather jacket away. He then removed his scarf, gloves and hat, then his boots. Puddles of half-
melted snow on the hardwood floor were probably not the best way to greet someone you haven’t seen
in eight months, so he made sure not to track in any of the snow that stubbornly clung to the grooved
undersides of the boots. Finally, he tiptoed into the living room, and saw that his guess was correct.
Illuminated by the warm glow of the lights on the Christmas tree, she lay still, chest rising and falling
slowly, rhythmically. Reading glasses askew, she still partially clutched a paperback novel in her right
hand. The mere sight of her - clad in a silken white sleeping gown offset by her rich, brown hair - made
the week-long drive worthwhile. Before he could approach her, she stirred, then slowly opened her eyes;
the vibrant, green eyes that he had fallen in love with. It took her a moment to adjust to the dim light of
the Christmas tree, but she instantly recognized who she had been for so long - too long - to see.
Without warning, she leapt from the recliner, knocking the book to the floor, and threw her arms around
him. He returned the embrace, and felt that he was much warmer that he was. She looked into his eyes,
smiled a smile of pure joy, and said, “You’re home.”

Author's Note

I wrote this when I was 15. It's one of the only pieces that I haven't grown wary of as time goes by.

Reviews

[Snuggles McClintock]

seems like you have the skeleton of something interesting. I would suggest adding some muscle tone and skin and complex organs, etc. damn if I don't love a good medical/ writing metaphor. onward

[confidential]

That's... wow.
It's really good
;D