This week I’m playing with creative writing. Each day I’m using an app to pick a random first line, subject, character, or plot. Then I’m rolling with it! Today I selected a random first line (in bold). Please be gentle with me. 😉

He opened the door to find her standing there, crying. Snot was everywhere. Tissues flew. Dogs barked.

She ushered him in and closed the door.

Can you believe this is happening? she asked. He couldn’t.

They embraced.

I’ve waited so long for this, she said. And it’s happening!

They walked into the room together. His bed was neatly made, sheets fresh, pillows fluffed. The walls were freshly painted green, his favorite color. Pictures, mostly of space—especially of the moon—sat patiently on the walls.

He walked over to Jacob’s dresser and picked up a perfectly folded blanket.

His mother gave me that, she said. His grandmother made it.

He held it in his hands and let it unfold toward the floor.

It smelled like his roots: sheep’s wool, dried grass, and earth. As it unfolded, a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked it up. Clutched it to her heart. It read:

Thank you for loving my boy. Thank you for seeing my boy. Thank you for loving him as your own.

With trembling fingers, she lovingly smoothed out the note. She opened the back of a picture frame and tucked it inside. It would be there for him, whenever he was ready.

The doorbell rang.

They looked at each other, grasped each others hands, and walked to the door.

It was him.

He was home.

In love and liminality,

Annie Rose