My Parents

The carriage wheels finally rolled into the village.

Clatter—

With a familiar sound, a scent I hadn’t smelled in ages tickled my nose.

The scent of grass and sun-warmed wood.

Beneath it, the wind I’d once listened to with bated breath,

and the faint scent of dried blood still lingered where it always had.

…It smelled wonderful.

Sitting beside Claude, I looked around the village.

Vines tangled along the stone walls, the big tree I used to climb, and log-roofed houses faded by the sun.

Everything was just as I remembered, yet it all felt a little unfamiliar...