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He's Home
“Dear, can you hand my glasses, please? They’re on the kitchen counter,” my grandmother asks as she picks up a Vogue magazine off of the couch next to her. I roll my eyes, but I oblige because sometimes my love for her doesn’t show all the time. I walk into the kitchen, and the pictures that are hanging above our door that leads to the back porch catches my eye. My heart aches as I see my wedding picture hanging on the wall, a constant reminder of my husband’s commitment to our country.
“Did you fall in there, Sam?” my grandmother calls, snapping me out of my stupor. I roll my eyes with a smirk creeping onto my lips when I find her leopard-spotted reading glasses on the counter, “I’m not getting any younger here, girl!”
“I’m coming, Nana!” I call back as I walk back into the room. She thanks me, as I finally sit down and close my eyes. I hear the doorbell ring, and I groan loudly as I look over to my grandmother hopefully.
“When you’re as old as I am, I’ll get the door.”
“After this, I’m not getting up for three hours!” I laugh as I open our front door. I stop laughing when I see the figure standing in the doorway with a duffle bag. The same ice blue, shining eyes I fell in love with stare at me with pure happiness as my vision blurs with the happiest tears that could exist. I choke back a sob as I launch myself into his arms.
“Samantha, if it’s another solicitor, I’m calling our lawyer!” “Nana,” I say between the tears and shaky breaths, “he’s home.” Delia Guzic
Grade 8
Sts. Joseph and John Mrs. Miller
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