I could see my father’s face as he stood on the porch, trying to hide his sadness.
Ethan came around and opened my door.
“Take your time.”
I stepped onto the walkway.
One stone near the front steps was still slightly uneven.
I pointed toward it.
“Did you leave that on purpose?”
He smiled.
“You told me you used to jump over it every day.”
I laughed.
Then I started crying.
He unlocked the door.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
He pushed it open.
The first thing I noticed was the scent of fresh wood and lemon polish.
Then I saw the hallway.
Cream-colored walls.
The narrow wooden shelf beside the entrance.
The little brass hooks where Dad used to hang his keys.
I stopped walking.
“No…”
I moved toward the kitchen.
And froze.
Yellow curtains hung in the windows.
The same warm shade I remembered.
A wooden table stood beneath the window, surrounded by four mismatched chairs.
