OOM: Dream

Chris moved through the backyard, it was just before dawn and still dark enough that it was hard to see. But she knew this area like the back of her hand, she moved to close to the rose bushes and somehow didn't scratch herself. Heirloom roses, all a soft pink color. She couldn't remember the specific breed (a woman's name) but she remembered the scent. Something was wrong here. (Roses don't bloom in September) Chris shook her head and opened the French doors that lead to the kitchen and stepped into the study.

Her mom was sitting at the desk, curly hair pulled back and wearing glasses. (But she didn't wear glasses yet.) Red pen in hand and a cup of tea nearby, she was grading papers. Outside the window she could see her brother and sister talking but something didn't fit. (They're grown but when we lived here when we were kids, when I was in high school.)

"You're home early," her mom says, hugging her and Chris remembers how she smelled of apples. Her mom pulls back to look down at her, (but I'm taller) and push some loose strands of hair from her eyes.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?"

Chris shakes her head no and replies, "No, but I might have dinner later."

"With Jack?"

Chris nods and it's hard to read the look on her mom face, she seems to be expecting something but she's not sure what. After a few quiet moments, her mom moves towards the kitchen counter and picks up the phone and holds it.

"Your father called, he'll be home tomorrow evening." Chris wonders if he was overseas. (There was a conference in Hong Kong around this time.) But she doesn't ask because she's not supposed to know that yet.

"I'll be home."