The door bursts open. Their voices fight for space on the air waves that carry them. They fling their shoes off, untie the jackets tied around their waists, and drop their backpacks in the entrance. I don’t want to nag the moment they get home but the entry path is littered. I crave my first words to be rainbows and sunshine. “Welcome home! How was your day? What was the best part of your day? What was the worst?” or maybe a simple hug, a tight squeeze relishing the sweaty smell of them while I can. I bite my tongue.
Shuba Mohan explores possibilities as a writer in the LA area. Her work has been featured by Yellow Arrow Journal, Brown Girl Magazine, and Fairfield Scribes.