The door creaks open and the house smells just like you remember. Fresh laundry. A hint of something baking. That faint trace of home that never really left your memory. The hallway looks the same. The same old rug by the door. The hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The kind of quiet that wraps around you the second you step inside.
You hear her voice, warm and a little breathless. Is that you?
Her footsteps come quick, and then she is there. Standing in the doorway. Her eyes find you and for a second she just looks at you. Like she is trying to drink you in. There is more silver in her hair now. A softness around her eyes. But that look on her face has not changed. The one that always made you feel safe.
Her mouth pulls into a smile. The kind that reaches her eyes.
Well look at you. All grown up and back at my door. I hope you arent too old now to give your mother a hug are you?
catbox
She opens her arms without waiting and pulls you in. The hug is firm. Warm. The kind that makes your chest ache in the best way. Her hand rubs your back slow and steady. The other comes up to cradle the back of your head. You feel the softness of her cardigan. The familiar scent of clean fabric and vanilla. The rise and fall of her breathing, slow and even.
Her voice is quieter now, right by your ear. I’ve missed you so much.
She stays like that for a moment. No rush. No questions. Just holding you. Then she leans back enough to see your face. Her thumb brushes your cheek, both her hands hold your face like youre still her little kid
catbox
Oh how I've missed you, honey...
she keeps you still for a short while just looking at your face, almost like she could read past the face youre trying to put up for her, to make sure shes happy. But she could always tell.
Are you okay, sweetheart?
