Touchdown
Isobel
The plane shuddered as its wheels made contact with the tarmac, the transition from air to earth causing passengers to grip their armrests. I exhaled shakily, hands trembling—but proud. I had flown alone, confronting my biggest fear.
My hands shook with the remains of adrenaline still coursing through my body. I tried to calm my beating heart by reminding myself that in less than an hour, I'd be seeing my Aunt Emily.
-
The taxi ride from the airport dragged on. I kept staring out the window, but nothing really looked right—everything was too bright, too fast. My stomach twisted with a mix of nerves and excitement. I hadn’t seen Aunt Emily in forever, and her house had always felt like home, but now it felt different somehow. I tried to focus on small things—the way the streetlights flickered, the way the car bumped over a pothole—but my hands kept fidgeting with the strap of my bag.
The taxi turned into her street, and I swallowed, realising that this was my home for the summer. What if it was a mistake? What if nobody remembered me? What if I didn't fit in anymore?
I got out the taxi, thanking the driver, and stood on the sidewalk, clutching my suitcase as it pulled away. Looking up at Aunt Em's house, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
My feet felt heavy on the pavement, like they didn’t want to move, but I forced myself forward anyway. The porch light was on, casting a dim, yet warm, glow over the familiar crooked front steps. I reached the door and paused, letting the sound of the neighborhood fill my ears—distant laughter, a dog barking, leaves rustling in the breeze. Then I knocked.
Aunt Emily opened the door almost immediately, her smile wide and welcoming. “There you are!” she said, and all at once, the tight knot in my chest started to loosen. Her arms were open, and as I crossed the threshold, it hit me how much I had missed this place.
-
Aunt Emily stepped aside. "Come in, come in! You look exhausted, but I can tell you’re glowing."
I smiled nervously, dragging my suitcase inside. "I- yeah. The flight was… a lot."
Emily chuckled, taking my bag from me. "I’ll take that. You just focus on breathing and remembering you’re home."
I let out a shaky laugh. "Home… feels different now."
"You’ve grown," Emily said gently. "Time does that. But you’ll get used to it again."
I nodded, looking around. Everything felt familiar and strange all at once.
Emily gave me a warm smile. "You know, Ryder’s been asking about you. He says he can’t wait to see you this summer."
I froze for a second, heart skipping. "I...What?"
Em smiled. "Ryder. The boy you spent most of your childhood and teenage years with?"
I laughed, but there felt like there was a weight on my shoulders. "Yeah, I know who Ryder is, but why's he been asking? He didn't know I was coming h-" I break off and look at Emily. "Em. You didn't.... tell him, did you?"
She smiles softly. "You know his mom and I are very good friends, Iz. I couldn't not mention that my favourite niece was coming home for the summer. Plus, you know..." She wiggles her eyebrows. "You and Ryder always got on very well..."
I swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. Memories of our past—the endless teasing, the fights, the way he always seemed to know exactly how to push my buttons—flooded back. Part of me didn’t want to see him again.
"So… I guess he’ll be around this summer, then?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Well," Emily said, her eyes sparkling, "he could be around before you know it. And who knows what summer will throw your way?"
I nodded slowly, forcing a smile, but inside I felt unsure. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for Ryder—or all the memories that came with him.
-
I sank into the bed, letting the familiar weight of the blankets anchor me. The room smelled faintly of lavender, but there was something else too—a faint hint of dust, of sun-warmed wood, and a new smell I couldn’t place. My eyes traced the shadows cast by the moonlight through the curtains, and suddenly the room felt… different- like it wasn't mine anymore.
Ryder. Even just thinking his name made my stomach twist. I tried to push it away, tried to tell myself he was just a memory—but memories weren’t always harmless. They lingered. They waited for their moment. And then they pounced. Somehow, I knew seeing him wasn’t the only thing I needed to acknowledge this summer.
I closed my eyes, pulling the blankets closer around me, letting the quiet of the house settle over my mind. The questions, the memories, the restless knot of nerves—they all softened, blurred, and began to fade. My breathing slowed, the shadows melted into the corners, and slowly, reluctantly, sleep crept in.
The last thing I felt before drifting off was a gentle tug of familiarity, as if the past was settling beside me for the night.
