Coming Home

I turned the corner, and there it was.
It was as if I had never left.
Uncle Hugh was carrying a chocolate pie
and Aunt Lila had sliced ham as they
went in through the back door, across the
screened-porch and into the kitchen.

Cousin Richard and his sister, Marylin,
were playing tag in the front yard,
laughingly ignoring all warnings about
not stepping on the Iris plants blooming
purple in the flower bed.

When I got out of the car in the driveway,
I could smell the sweet aroma of Grandfather's
pipe tobacco and hear bursts
of laughter swirling in the air.

It suddenly occurred to me that I was
standing on holy ground.  There in the window,
look.  Mother's lovely smile as she called out:
"He's here!"

And then the screened porch door opened
and there stood my Grandmother,
wiping flour from her hands onto a
blue and white apron, then extending
her arms, reaching out for me.
"We've been waiting for you.
Come on in."