Coming Home

It wasn't a long trip, but it had been long enough. The cool touch of her hand stroking my forearm welcomed me home after I hauled my bags in. I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, letting the road and the airport slide off me.

She slipped her hand down and behind me, then the other, and buried her face in my chest. I felt her words in my sternum, more than heard them.

"Welcome home, sweetie," she said.

And then the rest of the tension slid off me, and it was time to rest again.