Going Home

    As I stepped out of the taxi, the giddiness and excitement was evident in my eyes. I hurriedly dragged my suitcases behind me and flung open the door. Peering in through the entrance, everything was as I had left it—the only difference was that, now, a fine layer of dust had settled in, as if it were a blanket carefully encasing everything I had left behind. My shoes were still color-coordinated in the shoe closet, my pictures were still in a straight line across the mantel, and my coat was still hung up on the coat rack. I stood for a moment, at the entrance, trying to take everything in. Every corner of this place held memories. Glancing at the couch in the living room, the images of my family laughing together while watching a movie flashed through my head. Turning to the dining room table, I remembered how my family would share stories of our day while eating a delicious, home cooked meal. Finally, my eyes settled on the spiral staircase leading up to the bedrooms. My bedroom. I raced up the stairs, taking them two, even three, at a time, and dashed as fast as I could down the hallway. I skidded to a halt in front of my door and couldn’t help but gasp. Although a little frayed and faded, the poster that I had made 14 years ago was still stuck onto the door. “Knock before entering,” it read, in my messy, 6 year old handwriting. Tears couldn’t help but spring to my eyes as I remembered my favorite pink sharpie that I had used to write those words, checking the spelling of each of them with my mother. I held my breath as I swung the door open, and I instantly felt as if I was 6 years old again. The pink wallpaper that I had picked out myself was still plastered onto the walls, my little desk and pink swivel chair was still wedged into the corner of my room, my fluffy pink carpet was still laying on the floor, and my pink duvet was still thrown back as if I had just gotten up. I leaped into my bed and heard the springs wince, reminding me that I had grown quite a bit, in height and weight, since they had last been used. Staring at the ceiling, still covered with glow-in-the-dark star stickers, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was finally home again.