Welcome to a fun series where I’m giving myself permission to try new things and explore my love of words! You can jump right in or start with Day 1. I’m so glad you’re here!
As she drove away, Mel resisted the urge to look in the rearview mirror. She may have made it out of the building, but that place had a strong pull on her that she couldn’t seem to break. Today was an anomaly; she had never pushed past the obligation and fear that kept her tied to the pew before. Merging onto I-95, she couldn’t pinpoint why today was different. She just knew that it was.
Her car ride was quiet and the silence felt warm like when you’re in the sun and on the verge of being too hot. Something about it is wonderful, even in the discomfort. Her hand kept reaching for the radio to fill the void, but she stopped herself every time.
The miles rolled by and her eyes filled with tears. By the time she reached her exit, the numbers were blurry and she was swiping tears away before they could fall. She wasn’t even sure what happened today. Her phone buzzed in her purse but she kept her hands firmly at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel until she pulled into her driveway.
When she finally stopped and cut the engine, she rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes so the tears would stop. If she could just make sense of the intense urge she had to run away in the middle of church. There was no logic to it, just something inside that she couldn’t ignore. Unlike past experiences like this, she listened. She hoped it wasn’t a mistake.
Knock, knock.
The tiny tap on her window made Mel jump, her hand flying to her chest. Looking out the passenger window, she stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. A girl, no more than 6, sported messy braids and a furrowed brow.
Clicking the ignition, Mel rolled down the passenger window.
“Are you okay?” the girl asked, head tilted so one braid looked three inches longer than the other. It had been a long time since someone asked Mel that question. It had been even longer since she’d answered honestly.
“I’m not sure.”
“Well,” the girl raised her eyebrows and nodded, “do you think a cookie would help?” When Mel didn’t answer, the girl pointed to the house across the street from Mel’s. “My grandma just made cookies. She told me I had to go out and play while they were in the oven, but I bet they’re ready now. I’m visiting my grandma today. Do you know her? Her name is…” At this, the confident chatter stopped, replaced again with a deep furrow. “Well, I just call her Grandma G. I bet you could too.” Happy with her answer the girl smiled and waited for Mel’s response.
“Umm…” Mel glanced in her rearview mirror at the cozy ranch across the street. It was yellow, but not an obnoxious yellow; it was warm and buttery. Suddenly a cookie sounded pretty good. Mel hadn’t met the neighbor across the street. And the girl didn’t seem to be going anywhere. “How about I walk you back to your grandma’s house?”
That seemed to satisfy the girl. Smiling, she made her way around the car to the driver’s door just as Mel set her feet on the pavement. Mel let the girl take her hand as she stood up.
“My name is Bella. Well, actually it’s Isabella, but no one really calls me that. Everyone just calls me Bella, except my grandma, she calls me Bee. It’s kind of like I call her Grandma G.” The little hand pulled Mel away from the car toward the house across the way. “I love cookies! Don’t you? They’re so good. And my grandma makes the best cookies. I’m not just saying that. They really are. She won some ribbons baking these cookies. I’m not sure what kind of ribbon ’cause she never showed me, but it sounds real special.”
Before she knew it, the girl was pulling open the screen door ushering Mel inside. “Grandma G, I brought a new friend over for some cookies,” she bellowed. Clearly, this little girl didn’t have an ounce of shyness in her.
Mel hoped it was okay to be here. She wasn’t sure. This all seemed so weird, but she was just so caught off guard. She was about to say she should probably go when a woman called back, “Great! I’m in the kitchen, and the cookies are just the perfect temperature!”
Stepping around the sofa into the kitchen, Mel was overcome with a warm feeling as the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. A woman turned toward the doorway. If she was surprised to see an adult woman dragged in by her granddaughter, she masked it well.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” the woman said with a broad smile looking Mel directly in the eyes. For the first time in a long time, Mel felt like she was exactly where she belonged. Even if it was in a stranger’s kitchen.
