Jake grabbed her. He’d been waiting a long time to hold her in his arms and he wasn’t letting go now. They both rang in sick and spent the next week lost in a haze of love.
“I wish I wasn’t going home.”
“So do I Jake. Do you have to go?”
“Yes. Each visit everything seems smaller. First the house shrank and now my Father is shrinking. He was large, a real presence. Now, he’s bent over, tiny. I have to go, just in case. I wish you could come with me Mel. You will wait for me?”
In response to Charli’s prompt where she asks
September 30, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a return to home. What does it mean to return? Is it to reconnect, discover or let go? It can be a town, house, farm, castle or ruins. It can be a country or family, one of origin or one adopted. What does the return impart?
Respond by October 6, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation.Rules are here. All writers are welcome!