She could see everything. Her daughter, whom she had not seen in three years, was sprinting towards her. She could see her little legs working hard to arrive in front of her mother. She could see her outstretched, pudgy arms and her ridiculously bright, toothy grin. She could see her handsome husband walking towards her, wearing the same smile that won over her heart...
The taxi driver cleared his throat, interrupting her thoughts. “Mary?” the man said.
“Hm?” Mary tore her eyes away from the empty front yard of her house and faced him.
“Welcome home,” he replied.
Mary nodded her thank you and started to climb out of the car. Suddenly, the collar of her camouflaged uniform felt too tight for her to breathe. Her legs shook as she approached the door. She remembered that it had been painted yellow before she left but it was now painted black. Black was too...dark for her taste.
Mary gently rapped at the black door with her knuckles and it swung open immediately. Inside, she could see a banner hanging over the entranceway. “Welcome Home!” it said with the exclamation mark drooping toward the ground.
Mary smiled at the sight of it. She could tell that it was homemade, probably by her husband who worked at a studio, producing art of his own.
Mary tore her eyes away from the sign and saw her husband and her little girl. Her husband who wore the look of affection and joy on his face. Her little girl who, well, wasn’t so little anymore. She had grown out of her pigtails and light pink clothing and pink sneakers, replacing them with a braid, leather jacket, and dark combat boots. For a moment, Mary felt lost, but she shook it off. She knew she should be happy to be home after years out in the battlefield.
But something felt empty. Maybe she didn’t remember everything quite the way she had. Maybe home wasn’t as bright as she forced herself to imagine as sand blew into her tent. Maybe she had forgotten. Maybe everything was different. Everything.
“Hey, Mom,” her daughter said.
“Hello, Mary,” her husband said.
“Hey there, sweetie. Hello, handsome.” Mary smiled wider than she had in three years. It was nice to hear their voices again. They smiled back, but their eyes showed something unfamiliar. What it was, Mary could not figure out. But nothing was how she had remembered. It had changed. Their fragile relationships, Mary felt, had changed.
The family embraced each other, not because they wanted to, but because it was what people did and they stood their for a few minutes, clinging to each other.
Mary felt her heart shattering as her husband pulled her in tighter. He smiled again and kissed her, but there was no spark. The connection they had with each other, it felt very different; it felt lost. It was as black as the front door.