After Day
The wiper blades swiped away the remaining droplets on the windshield. They squealed as portions of rubber were left grabbing at dry glass. The rain had stopped several hours ago, but the moisture remained embedded in the pavement. Small pebbles crunched under the slowing tires. After turning off the street, the car inched up to the garage door and came to a stop; soon after, the hum of the engine ceased. The driver’s shoulders relaxed. Her hands slipped from the steering wheel. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she sunk a little lower into the seat. She took in several deep breaths. She whispered something to herself as she sat there motionless. After several minutes, the driver’s door popped open. She got out and, leaning back into the car, pulled her bag from the passenger seat. The door slammed shut a moment later, and she could be seen moving up the cobblestone path in the direction of the house.
The woman’s gaze took in the quaint brick house before her, ivy snaked up the exterior of the building, fully concealing the façade in some areas. White shutters framed the four street-facing windows. Rose bushes adorned the walk leading up to the house. A row of evergreen shrubs grew beneath the windows. Freshly spread woodchips surrounded the bushes, emitting a strong aroma. The scent was only heightened by the recent rainfall.
With a rhythmic stride, she walked up the path to the house. A light breeze darted around her, rustling the chime hanging over the entryway sending a series of bright notes into the air. The woman’s shoes slid against the brick steps leading up to the porch. Keys jingled as she selected the correct one, inserted it into the lock, and gently pushed the door open. The familiar scent of home filled her nostrils as she crossed the threshold. Once inside, she closed the door behind her, she let out a sigh.
Since it was springtime, the days had grown warmer, so the windows were left open to allow fresh air in. The fragrance of blossoming lilac bushes wafted into the house, leaving no room untouched by its sweet, relaxing scent. The house was silent apart from the gentle pht-pht-pht of the backyard sprinkler and the singing of birds outside.
A hallway led from the front door to the living room at the back of the house. The walls of the passage were a creamy white with wainscoting. Bright sunlight painted long skewed boxes over the floor and walls originating from the thresholds leading off the hallway. The wood floor creaked slightly as she moved down the corridor. A large housecat stretched itself on top of the living room couch. It had been awoken by its owner arriving home. It jumped down from its perch and sidled up to her. She bent down and gently stroked its tawny fur. Various species of houseplants interspersed the living room furniture, giving it a vibrant, organic ambiance. Their leaves seemed to breathe with the air wafting through the large open windows facing the backyard. After pausing for a moment, the woman ventured toward the kitchen.
She ran the kitchen sink for a few moments to fill the kettle. With a sharp tick-tick-tick she lit the gas stovetop. A small bird flew up to the window looking into the kitchen. It cocked its head sideways as it looked in at her. It let out a few high chirping notes then flew off into the greenery. The woman’s eyes followed the bird as she moved close to the window above the sink. The small backyard flower garden seemed to vibrate with life. Bees moved methodically from flower to flower as hummingbirds darted about the blossoming fruit trees. She was entranced by the rhythm of life before her. Two squirrels skittered across the lawn then chased each other into the arms of a nearby oak tree. It was like a living painting. Every animal and insect had its unique role in the scene before her.
A piercing whistle interrupted her trance. The kettle was calling out for attention. She turned off the gas and fetched a mug from the cupboard, as well as a packet of tea from the tin on the countertop. After placing it in the mug, she slowly poured the boiling water. The smell of chamomile drifted up. After letting it sit for a few minutes, she removed the teabag. With the mug in hand, she walked to the sliding door that led out to the backyard. As she opened it, the cat again silently returned to her side. It purred as it circled slowly around her legs. Again, she stooped and stroked the cat before walking outside and closing the door behind. The cat sat on its haunches, licking its paws, perhaps slightly disgruntled that it could not leave the house as well.
There were two well-trimmed hedges on either side of the door and a path leading out to the garden. A few paces from the house, a wooden swing rocked slowly back and forth in the breeze. The woman walked toward it and sat down. Any remnant of the rain earlier had gone. The sky was now a deep blue, and the sun was warm. Its light cast long shadows across the lawn. She leaned back, took a long deep breath, and took a sip of her tea as the world around her danced with life.
