Chasing Home by Emma Woods

Author:Emma Woods [Woods, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fairfield Publishing
Published: 2019-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

10

I went home, changed out of my dress and into my favorite t-shirt and sweats. I was still humming from the long day of emotions and expectations and wasn’t ready to sleep, even though it was late. The other Bumblebee girls bid me goodnight and headed off to bed. I put the kettle on in the kitchen and rooted through Rosa’s store of tea bags.

Once my cup of mint tea was ready, I padded out to the back porch and settled onto one of the well-cushioned swings. I leaned back, one leg curled under me, the other stretched down to the wooden boards so I could rock gently. The night wrapped around me as I sipped and swung. A chorus of crickets serenaded me. The stars filled the sky. The warm wind stroked my bare arms.

I should have been reveling in the success of the talent show. But I wasn’t. I felt all jumbled up inside. To my surprise, tears sprang to my eyes and then spilled over onto my cheeks. I sniffled and tried to take a deep breath.

“What’s wrong with me?” I prayed. “Why aren’t I happier about tonight?”

I waited for an answer. Images of Matt and Sophie willingly volunteering their time popped into my mind. I pictured the Bumblebee girls, quick to help wherever they were needed. I saw each act flash by, accompanied by the sound of the audience clapping and cheering. There was Nate, stepping in and stealing the show.

And there I was: on the fringe. I’d been an integral part of making the night happen, sure, but I wasn’t a permanent part of the picture. This community of friends and neighbors beckoned me like none had done before. A part of me longed to fit into the puzzle of Birch Springs. To truly belong here.

The wind caressed my face, and I thought of my mother. When I got sick as a little girl, Mom would make me a nest on the couch. She would bring me apple juice with a straw and a plate of saltine crackers. She would make sure the TV was at the right angle and volume. She would lean down, kiss my forehead, and gently caress my cheek.

The tears were really falling then. I missed my mother so much in that moment that I thought my heart would burst. Almost twenty years later, I still felt her loss deeply.

After Mom died, sick days had little comfort. Dad was busy at work and let me know that I was being an inconvenience. There was a gaping chasm between us, and we were never able to build a bridge across it. Whichever house or apartment we lived in never felt like home. Home had been my mother, and she was gone.

Maybe that was what was pulling at my heart tonight. For the first time, I had a place in which I could build a home. A real home. One with warmth and memories, love and true friendship.

And that was terrifying to me, because I knew that as good as home was, the loss of it was a terrible thing.

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