Going Back To the Past

The plane ride was pleasant, the flight itself only took 3 hours. The waiting in long ass lines and going through security is what sucked about the trip. Plus I'm not big on flying I've only been on 3 flights, one of them being when I was three so didn't even think that counts

"You okay, love?" Mark asks while the plane touches down. at this point, I was just staring out the window.
"Yea of course, why wouldn't I?"
"You just look out of it for some reason. Almost like or afraid or something." Mark said with a concerned look on his face.
"I promise I'm fine, it's just strange to think that I'm back in San Diego" San Diego wasn't the problem the people in it was.

After getting the go ahead we got out of our seats and gathered our things. Then made our way to the exit. Mark flew a lot because of his job in sales, so he knew his way around airports. In a few minutes, we were at the luggage pick up. There we waited for what seemed like forever. We just watched as other people retrieved their belongings, then eventually there was ours together, we both pick up our suitcases headed to the main entrance.

"Annabel" I heard a voice in a behind me. It was my mother. I waved then went over and hugged her."It's so good to see you, Your father and I have missed you so much" Mom just went on. "Mark this is my mother, mom this is Mark. You guys met at graduation if you can remember." I introduced them. "Of course, how could I forget a boy this handsome." Mark blushed at the remark.

My father was waiting in the line of cars in the loading and unloading circle. We put our suitcases in the trunk of the car and get in."Hey there sweety, long time no see." Dad joked.

Seeing everything on the way home was odd. a town can change a lot in 8 years, more than I could have ever imagined. Turning on to our street is when it hit me, I was home. This was the street I learned how to ride a bike on, the street I trick or treated on, the street I grew up on.

Finally, we reached my house, or what use to be my house. it seemingly hadn't changed. memories flooded my mind, so many that I didn't even realize I was the only one left in the car.

"Are you settled in yet?" dad asked from the hallway.
"yea just about" I replied. my mother and father moved back in together after I left, for the past few years, they have been in therapy working things out. Since me leaving they had turned my old room into an office/guest room.

New paint, furniture, and decorations. my old life was really gone. This room was my heaven during the divorce, sleepless nights crying over anything and everything. So many memories good and bad.

There was a knock on the door, it was my mother she had a box in her hands. "What's all of that?" I asked. "Your stuff" turns out when after I left they had kept my room the same, in hopes that I would come home. When dad moved back in their therapist suggested getting rid of my stuff. It was a way to let go of the past. All that was left was this box.

"It's not much but I want you to know that donating your stuff was the hardest thing that I have ever done. I thought one day you would show up and want something, and here you are. So you can have what you want." She left the room after putting the box on the desk.

These were my things, at one time in my life this box was my life. I started to cry at the sight of it all. there was a few shirts, a trophy from a spelling bee, pictures, my purple jacket from high school, and dear god my journal.

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