“You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood … back home to a young man’s dreams of glory and of fame … back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time – back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.” (Ellipses in original.)
The plane landed at 10:30AM. I wore a black wool coat over my charcoal sweater and black skirt with black leggings. My days of wearing heels were over and my black sneakers comforted my stride. I packed my suitcase with the intention of attending her funeral. Before I left my Savannah apartment I tucked her picture into my cranberry leather planner. I needed her with me.
I hadn’t seen Jacob or our sister, Jules in 2 years. Jake was always busy with his real estate firm. Jules had been a successful interior designer up until the murder. When her husband Jeff was killed, my sister emotionally died with him.
When Jacob would call, our conversation was scripted.
“Hello, how is work, it’s busy, you’re more OCD than is healthy, Miranda, you should relax more, Jules no-showed for the party or the gathering. I keep telling Kate to stop inviting her because she’s a lost cause. My response would be asking about my niece Audrey and telling him Jules is still our sister we can’t give up on her.
I rubbed my eyes as the front section of coach stood to disembark. The weather was still crisp in Syracuse. It was March 15th. The sun was shining when I stepped out onto the sidewalk.
I looked at her crying face in our picture and whispered: “I’m here for you. I’m doing this for you. I never gave up on you.”
I exhaled and closed my eyes. I’ll never forget the backwards hug I know I felt. She knew I was there. I opened my eyes and looked into the crystal blue eyes of a man sitting in a black Mercedes. I smiled softly and mumbled to myself, “I’ll work on him for you.”
You can’t go home again, because you’ve changed and so has everything else.