Coming Home

"Coming Home"
by
W. P. Gerace

Marcia could not believe that 54 years ago, she left this desert city to start a new life in the Big Apple. Phoenix had a huge population boom. There were more people and businesses than when she left. Walking through the crowded airport clutching her mini brown leather briefcase, the hustle and bustle of people reminded her so much of the fast paced lifestyle of New York City.

Looking out into the skyline from the top floor of the airport, the city had many towering buildings of lofty structures stretching out into the bright blue skies. The traffic below was bumper to bumper; cars moved at a snail's pace. A heavy-set woman with curly reddish blonde hair came out of her dark Green Volkswagen carrying on, saying they needed to get it moving. She had a significant appointment to go to. It was almost as if New York City was in Phoenix minus the blazing dry heat, lofty mountains, and cactuses. Nothing much else was different.

"Marcia, Marcia, Marcia! "Calling through the crowds, Marcia heard the familiar voice of her sister Stacy.

"Hi, Stacy. Oh my gosh, you look great. "Marcia responded.

Looking at Stacy, one would never know the woman had stage four metastatic Lung Cancer. She had a luminous glow in her reddish-tanned cheeks. Stacy always had a feisty spirit, which hadn't changed in 54 years. Gazing at a group of young college boys walking through the airport dressed in shorts and tee shirts, their muscled bodies capturing Stacy's wondering blueish-green eyes. She lightly jabbed Marcia, whispering dang, shame we ain't forty years younger, sis; we could have some fun with those hunks. Cackling, holding her hand over her mouth, Marcia was so glad the disease had not robbed the spirit from her sister.

"I am so happy to see you, honey. You look outstanding. How are you feeling?" Holding Stacy's hand, Marcia could feel her brittle bones underneath her grip.

"Oh, I have my good and bad days like everyone else. But listen, let's not talk about that. That's sad stuff. You know how I feel about that, honey. Hey, I have a surprise for you." Stacy said, reaching into her bulky straw purse, similar to what women bring to the beach, not an airport.

Stacy pulled out this giant plastic bag with the word Macy's written in bold blue letters. Inside it was what looked like a colossal sunflower or flower folded up. Unwrapping the package, she spread the flower petals open. In the center of the piece was a brown-like center clamped firmly around her thin red hair. Putting her hands out in front of her and placing her bag on the floor of the moving escalator as they traveled between the terminals, she began singing a song that Marcia had not heard in nearly 54 years.

"I am a little sunflower. Watch me grow. I am a little sunflower made by Mother Nature. Watch me grow. I will give nectar to the bees and help them make that yummy honey. I am a little sunflower. Watch me grow! Watch me grow! Grow! Grow! Grow!" Tapping along the black material of the conveyor belt, Stacy's tiny feet barely fit in her yellow sandals. Marcia's eyes were moist with tears, grateful that she made this trip.

"Gosh, Mom sings that to us every Friday on family night. Mom had such a gorgeous voice, didn't she, Stacy? "Marcia asked.

Friday Nights in the Petricelli house was always a blast. Marcia could still see their tiny family rec room with those dark oak paneled walls, rose red carpets, and the small Television on the back wall. Dad would be sitting on his beige sofa recliner, his black stocking feet stinking up the place after a long, hard day as a Mechanic at the local Bread Factory up the street, O'Rileys. Mom would come out in one of her spaghetti strap blouses, her long silky blonde hair touching her shoulders as she danced around singing all kinds of songs in her gorgeous professional voice. One time, she remembered her mother telling her not long before Marcia left for New York City that she was so happy Marcia was following her dreams. It was something she wished she had done years ago. Touching Marcia's hands, she smiled and gave her a pinch.

"Earth to Marcia. You there, girl. "Stacy's pink polished nails snapped in front of Marcia as she lost herself in the space of her thoughts.

"Sorry Stac. I was just thinking. "Marcia followed her younger sibling out to the street.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You were always the one with your head in the clouds. "Hugging Marcia, she could not help but feel the brittleness of Stacy’s body. It was almost as if she were made of some delicate glass that could explode.

Marcia was so happy she made this choice to come home. They always had a blended family and it still remained the same. Marcia could not wait to see everyone. Staci had five kids, five grandkids, and one great-granddaughter, Porsha. Marcia had her own surprise to share with Staci. It was well overdue.

"Sis, I have a surprise for you. I will call my attorney, Harold Jones, in the morning. I am selling all my properties and businesses back East. I will only be with you briefly while looking for a place to live here. I hope you don't mind at all. "

"Girl, mind, I am so happy. This is great. "Stacy gave Marcia a huge hug, which seemed to last forever.

Marcia was finally home again. She was beyond ecstatic. Smiling, Marcia gave Stacy a gave a big hug and kiss. Crying, she realized she had missed out on so much. Though Marcia could not make up for lost time, she can rebuild her family relationships. That was what she planned to do. Exactly.