The Ambush

Exhaling, I shut the door of the taxi and walk up my parent's drive. I peer up at the orange and red sunset as it casts a warm, beautiful glow over my parent's one-story house. I can't help but inhale the cool, Portland air and smile as I open the familiar white gate, stepping through to the rocky pathway. Pebbles crunch beneath my feet, a sensation forgotten once the smell of shepherd's pie and roast vegetables wafts up my nose.

I walk along the pathway and stomp up the wooden stairs and across the porch. I knock on the door and wait. A heartbeat later, Mom is ripping the door open and beaming widely at me.

"Darling!" she greets, pulling me into a hug that smells of basil and salt. "You know you don't have to knock here."

I bury my face in her short, chocolate curls as I hug her back. "I know."

Pulling away, she takes me by the wrist and drags me into the house, smiling gleefully at my ugly sweater. She loves it. She loves the mustard-colored ruffles and the white stripes around the e