Written by Liz Frisbie of Richard Montgomery
I paused at the front stoop, my hand posed as if to knock. And yet, no matter how much I willed myself to, no knock came. A harsh winter draft came up behind me, swirling the icy snow left over from yesterday’s storm. Abruptly, I turned away.
How long had it been since we had done this? How long had it been since we were all gathered in one place?
I gazed back at the looming shadow of my parent’s house. It was different from what I remembered—darker, somehow. The crooked shutters on the second story window didn’t say home to me anymore. It looks like a witch lives here. I smothered a laugh at this sudden thought, covering my half-open smile with a hand. I wondered what my mother would’ve thought about that. Before, she would’ve laughed with me, the way only we could. I can’t recall how many times my father walked in on us with tears streaming down our faces, breathless with the kind of joy that comes from someone getting you.
An icy drop ran down my back, shocking me back to reality. I inspected the sky. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, drowning out the last rays of the chilly afternoon sun. Taking a moment to refocus myself, I traced the stone path that led from the driveway to the backyard, barely visible through the layer of snow covering it. It hadn’t been that long since my brother and I had spent our whole summer sitting on the swingset talking excitedly about the future. But to me, it felt like eternity had passed. My brother had a word for that feeling, when a memory was so close you could touch it, yet so deep in the past. He always had the best names for things. Lost in nostalgia, I found myself by the once beautiful swing set. Now broken from neglect, the cold plastic seat still radiated a certain warmth. This is the last place I felt loved. In a fit of anger, I freed the seat from its chains and buried it in the freezing snow. I sank down beside it, sobbing quietly as the snow dampened my jeans. What they had done to me was unforgivable. I had to remember that. But now, looking at the house of my youth, windows warm and glowing in the twilight, I couldn’t help but feel hope. I shivered as I stood up, patting the sodden patches where the snow had soaked through to my skin. I paused for a moment, and prepared to go inside what had once been my home. A warm beam of light intercepted my arranging as the back door opened.
“Jamie? Is that you? Whatever are you doing out there in the cold? Why don’t you come inside; everyone here is waiting for you.”
I froze, stunned like a deer in headlights. They were waiting… for me? I tried to keep my voice from wavering.
“I—I’ll be in soon. Just give me a moment, please.”
With that, the door shut quietly, and the shadows returned. With a start, I noticed the sun had disappeared completely. I sighed heavily, and my breath curled upward in the frosty air, eventually mingling with the smoke from the chimney. I couldn’t believe it. After three years of me waiting by the phone, desperate for their call, they were waiting for me? I laughed, my breath coming out in harsh, quick puffs. I recalled the elation I had felt when finally, finally, the phone had rung. They wanted me home for the holidays. I guess it was true. I guess they finally accepted me.
But am I ready to accept them? The laugh caught in my throat, stopping as quickly as it began. I thought back to that frozen winter evening three years ago when those few words changed my life.
“We don’t want you coming here anymore.”
I remember staggering back in shock and disbelief. What had happened to unconditional love? Was what I did really unforgivable?
I shook off the memory with the snowflakes that had started gathering on my shoulders and straightened my back with a new feeling of determination. That day, I could only run out of my home. I could only regret who I was. But if three years without my family had taught me anything, it was that I didn’t need them. I squared my shoulders and, raising my chin, marched across the now hidden stones, over the driveway, and onto the cold stoop. I held up my fist. But, to my dismay, I couldn’t do it. Frustrated, I tried again. Still nothing. I grasped my wrist, sobbing as I shook it with all my force.
“Why can’t I just do it?!” I screamed into the night, my breath freezing into millions of tiny daggers in the cold winter air. Weeping, I collapsed onto the stoop, and pulled my legs to my chest. Some time later, my body was bathed in warm light as the front door opened.
“Jamie.”
I glanced up. My grandmother’s time-worn face stared back, and she carefully shut the door behind her.
“I know how you must feel,” she said, “but they’ve missed you. Really.” She took my hand and sat beside me, just as she did all those years ago. She was the only one who stayed in contact with me, and I would be forever grateful for that.
“Why should I go in there, Grandma?” I questioned tearfully. “Why should I make them feel better about what they did?”
“No, sweetie.” She brushed the hair away from my face. “You shouldn’t. But this isn’t for them. I was thinking that being together would provide everyone some…” Her voice trailed off. “Closure.”
I stared dumbly into the blackness of the night.
“Closure,” I repeated quietly.
“Yes. Even if you have to run out again,” she bumped me playfully with her shoulder. “At least you were brave enough to face them.”
We sat in silence for a bit before she stood up and reached for the doorknob. Warm light flooded in around me, and my shadow stretched across the white snow. With one foot in the house, my grandmother turned and faced me.
“Jamie,” she said, “do hurry. I wouldn’t want you to freeze out here.”
A chuckle escaped my throat, and I wiped the tears that had gathered in my eyes away. Without looking back, I raced to the door and found myself knocking. A gust of warm air blew out as I was engulfed in the blinding light. When my eyes adjusted, I could see my family waiting expectantly.
“Jamie.” My mother’s eyes were shiny with tears. “I know this won’t make up for the last three years, but please, please…” She took a deep breath. “Let us try to be a family again. We’ve all missed you so much, and I—” She opened her arms, and I rushed into the warm, familiar embrace. I was home again.
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