A Short Story, Final

I drove, sticking to the speed limit wishing it was faster. It seemed like forever before I got there. I slowed at the end of the street, glanced in the mirror. The tired face was overshadowed by the excitement in my brown eyes. It wasn’t so bad being a wife, a mother. I’m still Alice.

I walked up the front steps and after a deep breath knocked, my bag at my feet. Michael opened the door and I was swamped with the love I’d felt on our wedding day, on the births of our children.

“Alice. God, you’re okay.” I held tight to him, my pillar of strength and felt him shudder even as I drew in the scent, the familiarity of him. I may not have done the right thing in leaving, but I’d done the right thing in coming back. Tears and squeals of joy surrounded me as our children ran to embrace me.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

Michael kissed me and pulled me into the house. “None of that now. Later.” He beamed through his tears and I saw a man I’d never seen before. He loved me enough to welcome me back unquestioned, certain of my responding love and fidelity.

I know now that I am Alice. I may not know exactly who Alice is, but I know I am a wife and mother. I am loved. I love. The rest will come later.

End

Kerrin Hearfield