In the Words of Mr. E: Home

Mr. E shows his head! He's agreed to post, once a week, small scenes or small thoughts. Mostly true, sometimes made-up, always awesome. His first addition, a small piece about Home.

“You need to start paying rent.”

Those were the first words Dad said to me as I walked through the threshold.  I hadn’t been home in over two months.  Rent?

I never knew what a grudge was until that moment.  It corroded inside of me for more than a year.

Rent.

But then I remembered: 

I was in an aisle seat leaning over the stranger who was asleep next to me.  We were uncomfortably close, but I had to see out the window.  The bay became bigger and bigger.  I swore I could smell the ocean through the glass.  A tear rolled down my cheek.

I walked down the terminal, rolling my luggage behind me.  As I rode down the escalator I saw him.  I walked up to him the way I did that time I broke the window with a rock when I was seven; I wasn’t sure how he was going to react.  He gave me a warm hug and whispered, “I love you, son.”

It was good to be home.