The King Without A Queen

Phoebe

I could feel myself smiling when I passed the field that I was so familiar with. But I couldn’t wait and appreciate the area that I spent most of my time as a kid as the car passed by too soon.

Soon the scenery was replaced by another and then I found myself gazing at the familiar neighborhood where I spent ten years of my life.

I was finally home and I was more than happy about it.

One by one the houses passed, some I was familiar with, others not so much and some I knew that it was redecorated. And soon the car slowed down and I came face to face with our house.

Our real house.

Home.

I giggled excitedly and my mother chuckled at my reaction, “You seem ecstatic, Phoebe.” My mother announced, taking off the seatbelt.

I followed her actions and said out loud, “Yes, mom. Look,” I pointed out to our house, “We’re finally home.”

Home.

Growing up I always wanted to stay somewhere and make memories.

Of course, I had made many memories travelling with my mom and with the people I’ve met but there was one thing that they all were strangers.

I always had this feeling that I didn’t belong with them and of course I didn’t. They had their own life before I came into theirs and only got a glimpse of how they lived.

They were what we called meeting halfway through the journey.

I wanted to be with someone who knew me from the beginning.

My mother gave me a smile, “Come on, let us go inside.” She pressed a button and all the doors were unlocked.

I nodded eagerly and opened the door jumping outside and then closing it.

The cool air kissed my skin as soon as I was out of the car. I loved it.

I didn’t wait for too long outside as I was too excited to see our house again.

I followed my mom to the house and waited patiently as she unlocked the door. I looked around the lawn and wondered if my mom will again grow flowers over there.

I remember my mom was too keen on gardening but that changed when she decided photography was her passion instead and took me with her wherever she went.

And then suddenly last week she decided that she had enough and wanted to return. I was dumbfounded when she told me that but I kept my feelings on bay and didn’t ask her much questions, I was afraid that she might change her decision.

My mom was impulsive and everything that she did was the result of her impulse; including me. I wasn’t exactly planned but on her twenty first birthday she decided she wanted to hook up and as a result I was born. I never knew who my father was and neither my mom did, she was too intoxicated to even remember his voice.

She only remembered his name.

Aaron.

That was the only thing I knew of my father.

I looked like my mom too; short barely reaching 5 ft 5, curly hair and a small nose. My eyes were grey and I guess that was the only thing I got from my father, whoever he was.

The sound of the door squeaking loudly penetrated my thoughts and I was out of whichever zone I was at.

I tend to zone out a lot.

My mom stepped inside the house and the I followed. The smell of dust instantly hit my nostrils and I covered my nose immediately.

There was light sneaking into the room through the windows and I could clearly see the living room.

The room was empty but I smiled looking at it.

I was finally home.