I reach for my purse and take a deep breath.
Before I can make it halfway up the driveway, the front door opens. Shannon Thorne doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to. Her cheeks rise as she smiles, her eyes glistening. Even from a distance, I can tell that she’s been crying. Yet her expression isn’t one of sadness but is brimming with happiness.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
My mom is and always has been an attractive woman. Her strawberry blond hair is lighter and shorter than mine, and her eyes are the same blue. In her mid-fifties, my mother still has a figure that suggests regular exercise. She radiates a sense of self-assuredness that comes with time and experience.
Mom was a teacher at Blue Gil Elementary when she and my dad married. They’d known one another for years, yet she refused to marry before she finished her education degree. After they married, she taught while simultaneously continuing her education and received her PhD in administration. When I was in the eighth grade, Shannon Thorne was hired as the superintendent for Blue Gil Municipal Schools.
In full disclosure, Blue Gil has one elementary, one middle school, and one high school. Nevertheless, my mother is the superintendent, a well-respected member of the Blue Gil community.
One thought rapidly leads to the next, and I realize that with her affiliation to the schools, she was undoubtedly at the funeral yesterday. After all, Mr. Gilbert worked for the school system, so, in effect, he worked for her.
When we meet, Mom pulls me into a heartfelt hug. “I’ve missed you,” she murmurs against my ear. Next, she reaches for my hand and leads me inside.
Human senses are an amazing part of our being. Even if I closed my eyes, I would know I was in my childhood home. There is a subtle yet undeniable scent of lemon. I don’t know what it is. I’ve tried lemon furniture polish and lemon air fresheners, but nothing smells like home.
However, my eyes aren’t closed, and I immediately notice how the optics have changed.
“Wow,” I say, taking in the back of the house. When Ilived here, we had one sliding glass door going out to the back deck. Now it’s a wall of windows with a French door. Beyond is a screened porch and farther where there used to be grass, there’s a cement deck with a pool. “When did you do this?”
“Oh, I’m sure I mentioned it.”
I walk past her to the open door and take it in. “I think I’d remember this.”
“We did it for Ollie’s graduation.”
A sigh comes before I can stop it. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been back.”
Those aren’t empty words. In this moment, I feel the emptiness that comes with not seeing my family and those who care.
Mom’s lips curl. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
“I am, but I can’t stay. I won’t be here for Julie’s graduation. I’m a terrible sister.”
Mom shakes her head. “Nonsense. You’re a busy professional with an important job. Believe me, everyone in Blue Gil knows all about our daughter who works in Hollywood.”
“I mostly work from home, but the studios are in Burbank.”
Her smile grows. “And at the end of the programs, I always wait and watch the credits to see your name.”
I didn’t know she did that. The simple admission on her part gives me a sense of acceptance that I hadn’t realized was missing.
Mom turns and leads me toward the kitchen. That room has also changed. The basic arrangement is thesame, but the cabinets, counters, and colors are different. Gone is the bulkhead lighting. The ceiling feels higher and the room is more open.
Something else feels different.
I stand for a moment and realize that the house is much quieter than I recall. No one else is home. When I left, Olivia had one more year of high school, Ollie had two, and Julie, the one about to graduate, had just completed sixth grade. Our house was always a series of comings and goings. It wasn’t only our family but also friends.
“Where’s the wallpaper?” I ask jokingly, talking about the kitchen.
“Your dad hated it, and he hated taking it down even more.”
As I sit at the breakfast bar, I brace for the question I know is coming. My mom may be trying to make this go smoothly, but she’s also direct. I suppose that is what makes her a good administrator.
Sure enough, as Mom sets a glass of iced tea down in front of me, it does.
“Your timing is curious,” she says leadingly. “Three weeks later and you’d be able to see your sister graduate. Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, I am.” Her neck straightens. “After all this time, what brings you back to Blue Gil?”
