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The car's engine faded into the distance as David drove away, leaving me alone at my parents' front door in New Jersey.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, preparing myself for the surprise. I had yet to give them any forewarning about my visit, so they were not expecting me.
A few seconds later, the door swung open, and my mother stood, her eyes wide with shock. I quickly pulled her into a tight hug...
“What are you doing here? Oh my goodness, really. You’re here. I had no idea you were coming!” she sputtered in surprise.
"I needed to see you, so I came home. I was so excited to see you that I forgot to call and tell you and Dad.” I replied.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged me back.
"Elizabeth, darling, it's wonderful to see you, but I wish you would have let us know you were coming so I could’ve been more prepared and made your favorite foods."
Just then, my dad appeared from the kitchen, his expression mirroring my mother's astonishment.
"Who's at the door, hon—Elizabeth?" His voice held a mixture of disbelief and joy as he joined our embrace.
I smiled through my tears.
"Hi, Dad! I've missed you both so much."
He patted my back and stepped back to look at me.
"Well, you're here now, that's what matters. Come inside, let's eat."
I followed my parents into the dining room, where the wonderful scent of something delicious filled the house with Mom's home cooking.
The familiar sight of our family table filled with dishes brought back memories.
My mother rushed to the stove and turned off the burner, revealing a pot of homemade spaghetti bolognese.
"I was just preparing dinner."
I sat at the table, feeling guilty for surprising them like this.
My dad chuckled as he took a seat beside me.
"Well, surprises can be a good thing sometimes. How have you been, my girl? We haven't heard from you in a while."
I sighed, knowing that there was a lot I needed to share with them. “There’s been a lot going on lately.”
The aroma of my mother’s homemade spaghetti bolognese filled the air as we sat around the dining table. My parents and I chatted, and my father, always curious, fired questions at me like a seasoned interrogator.
"Tell me about your life in New York. How's the big city treating you?"
I twirled a forkful of spaghetti thoughtfully, savoring the familiar flavors before I answered.
"New York is... well, it's New York, Dad. Fast-paced, chaotic, but also full of crazy people. Work is keeping me busy, and I'm learning a lot."
My father nodded, his eyes curious.
"How’s the job going?"
As I described my workplace, my colleagues, and the projects I was involved in, I could see the pride in my father's eyes.
He’d always encouraged me to pursue a career that challenged me, and it was evident that he was pleased with my choices.
While my father quizzed me about my life in New York, I couldn't help but notice my mother's subtle scrutiny.
