Home Again A Novel Novels & Stories

I ask before I can stop myself. "Dunno bro. Where's home? Home is nowhere but here " Stan says and beats his chest. "Trace and the unborn child, that's home. " I nod in agreement. I believe Stan. Home is not a house with an address. It is the people we love and care about. Stan has his home with Trace and the baby. The silence in the room is deafening. I wonder if I would ever boast of having a home in the future. For now, I know I do not have one.

“Home sweet home.” Greta dumps her hand luggage in the center of the Tarry shack as I walk in behind her and gaze around the much-missed home of ours. Glad to be back here even though we were not gone all that long, not even far, and yet it feels like we went to another planet. That it’s been months instead of one. It’s the warmest and most relaxing breath of fresh air to walk in here, letting all my stresses go and basking in the feel of familiar safety.

“Home?” I repeated in question. Home. I lived from one orphanage to another. I didn’t really have a permanent place to stay. I was alone but wasn’t lonely. I didn’t have a shelter of my own but I was home. For eighteen years, wherever I went, I was home. At first, I find it weird being comfortable with a new place at an instant, feeling home, but now I know why. It was because home was following me. Home doesn’t refer to a thing with doors and windows. Home is a person or even a ghost. Sadness slowly crept in my system. I just lost that home. Recently, I discovered that I got myself another home, Grip, but I lost them both right after another.

I whispered as I squeezed my hand. “ Is there's someone inside? Are you serious about coming home here? ”My friend Paige asked hesitantly. When I studied abroad, she also followed me there and now that I have returned to Cordova City she also came back. "Maybe someone is inside. It looks like someone is living here because the mansion has been renovated," I assured. "I'm just wondering, why are you coming back to this mansion eh, this is not your home and your Mom is no longer here, the only reason why you lived here?" Paige asked.

He received a phone call from Arthur the same morning requesting Frank's immediate return. Frank knew why Arthur had asked him to return home. An hour later, he rode a plane back to Joseubury. The plane arrived at Joseubury Airport in two hours. The driver was already waiting for him. Frank headed for Caddel Residence the moment he departed from the plane. Caddel Residence wasn't old. It was a villa in the city center of Joseubury. It was in a prime location and cost as much as a castle. The car drove into the yard. Frank left the car and walked into the living room.

Mom chimed in quickly, "Yeah, Suzy, don't pick a fight with her. She hardly ever comes home, just for New Year's. They can crash in the guest room, and you guys take the master." Our place did not have any fancy floor heating, and out of all three rooms, the guest room was the only one without a heater. With the mercury dipping below freezing, how could Mom stand for that? Suzy snorted, "Doesn't she have her own place? Dragging her kid back to her parents' for the holidays, isn't she worried about the gossip?" I shot up from my seat, fuming, "Since when do I need your okay to come back to my own house?"

Calla's POV "Home" they say,there's no place like it but it didn't feel quite right since I returned. It has been 24hours since I landed in Boston,almost like a missing puzzle piece had been snatched out. I guess I thought,after the fashion everything would go back to normal. It didn't. I came back home to still see mum attached to her oxygen tank, smell of medicine still replaced the smell of floral air freshener, anxiety still got the best of me and James...well, James was back to being a stranger.

"I swear, if I have one more sleazy board member trying to sweet-talk their way to a contract." I muttered, fiddling with the front door lock and pushing the door open with my shoulder. “I might actually combust.” Cinnamon and something sweet-scented filled the air as I stepped in. Home. I kicked off my heels with a groan and slammed my bag down on the side table. My body ached. My head ached and my face ached the more from pretending to smile and give a fuck about those shit heads.

' They'll wish we'd taken them out with a single bullet. I returned his smile, pulled my child closer, and walked back to the comfort of our home. It was not long before Derick and Jasmine were locked away. With the White family's 'special care,' their time in the slammer was a living nightmare. By the time Ayden turned 10 years old, the worn-out pair was released. Derick's first move as a free man was to divorce Jasmine and try to track down Ayden and me. Little did he know that I had taken Ayden and left for foreign shores a decade ago, back to the stronghold of our family.

I looked at that line. Then beneath it. The compound holds people the way good homes hold people. Not containing them. Keeping them. And beneath that, smaller, the thing I had been circling all evening without letting myself write: I understand now why he was worth coming back for. I looked at that line for a long time. Then I closed the notebook. I turned off the lamp. In the dark, with the sounds of the compound settling around me unfamiliar and somehow already not frightening, I lay still and let myself admit, for exactly thirty seconds, that I felt something close to at home.