Home at Last

The opening notes of Satie’s First “Gymnopédie” sound to you like a key in the latch.

You listen, watching yourself slowly opening the front door you’ve imagined. The same door you’ve passed through on rainy days and in sunshine, with a heart full of gloom and arms full of groceries. So many times you’ve come in through this door, but right now, in your mind’s eye, these first few steps in from the porch feel different.

You enter your home, slowly, carrying the weight of your journey. You feel heavy, sluggish, but not dissatisfied. This is a weight you have earned, though this adventure has been far from what you’ve expected.

You close the door behind you.

Relief drips from your shoulders, your arms hang limp.

It’s good to be home.

You open your eyes, stretch your legs, and walk the few steps to the old record player.

You slip the last record back into its sleeve and stop by the bookcase, wiping a bit of dust from Grampy’s picture frame. You beat the storm. The one winding down outside your window, yes. But you also beat the storm within.

As you turn from the record player, a warm wave washes over you. Grampy was right about this music and the adventure that awaits. You smile, realizing Grampy was with you for this adventure, all along.

 Want to take another path? Go back to the beginning.