Welcome Home

[PottyPants]

I stood on the doorstep of my parents’ house. This was the house I grew up in. Everything in the front yard was the same as the day I slammed the door behind me. It had been ten long years ago. Yes, the trees were a little bigger. The sidewalk cracked in a couple new places, well new to me. My mother had planted the same flowers she planted when I was a child. They were in the same places. Marigolds lined both sides of the sidewalk. Petunias and Pansies planted on either side of the small front porch. At the corners of the house, which received the most shade, were her precious impatiens. Mother loved those frail flowers. The grass had been cut, and was a lush green. I remembered how soft it felt under my bare feet. The old tire swing still hung in the big Sugar Maple at the edge of the yard. Only difference there, lush full green grass had filled the bare spot that used to be beneath it. Yes, everything was the same, almost.
Instead of leaving in an enraged state, I was coming home. This was not by choice; I had no where left to go. I stood at the front door with everything I left with, the clothes on my back. I raised my right hand, curled my fingers under, and knocked on the door. After a slight pause, I heard my mother’s voice. “Be right there,” she said. Upon hearing her voice, it took me back to that day ten years ago. What a stupid immature kid I had been. I thought I knew everything. Now, here I stood, and my mother had been right.
I was your usual 18 year old. I had graduated, and received control of my bank accounts. Yeah, I worked a full time job, but didn’t want to be told how to live anymore. I worked all week, and partied all weekend. By the end of the year I had squandered away my savings. I was quite content to do what I wanted, eat anything, leave my room a constant mess, and not even attempt to listen to a word my parents said. After a couple months of this, my parents and I were no longer civil to each other. It was a constant argument, most of the time ended by me walking out. I came home from partying all Memorial Day weekend 1997. I walked into my room to find all my clothes on the floor. The bed was stripped. The dresser and closet were empty. The walls were bare. My mother stood in the corner of my room. “You will start acting responsibly, or you can leave!” she said coldly. After a heated argument, I slammed the front door behind me.
Ten years ago, I thought. The sound of the front door opening brought me back from my daydream. In the doorway was my mother. Amazingly, she looked the same as the day I left. She stands at 5’ 6”, has beautiful strawberry blonde shoulder length hair, and deep brown eyes. True, mother is a mature woman. She could easily pass for a woman half her age though. If you were going to take measurements, 36-24-38, a lot of men would trip over their tongues. Mother walked forward and embraced me in a hug. “I’ve been expecting you, son.” she said. “Come in.” Expecting me?!?

[Mama Liz]

Dear Me, would you look at this. I love your story Potty Pants. So many writers here, I am enjoying them all to the hilt. I cannot wait to read some more Potty Pants.

Mommy Lizabeth