I walked back inside, closing the balcony doors behind me to shut out the cold wind. I walked through the empty rooms of my house, stopping by the window to watch the rain clear over the sound.
The ferry was nearly across now, its shape disappearing into the shadow of the distant shore. I watched the ferry move across the water, its lights small and steady in the dark.
“I am finally home,” I whispered to the empty room.
Andrew Collins is a contributor who enjoys writing about everyday topics, people, and ideas that spark curiosity. His approach is simple and conversational, aiming to make stories easy to read and relatable. Outside of writing, Andrew follows current trends, enjoys long walks, and likes turning small observations into meaningful stories.
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I stood by the woodpile and watched the red tail lights of the station wagon disappear through the dark hemlocks, the sound of the tires fading into the vast, quiet space of the forest. The silence that returned was not the heavy, suffocating silence of the house in town, but the deep, natural quiet of…
“We built this land from stubborn belief, and it is still here,” I said, my voice carrying soft and slow across the yard. Katie reached over, her hand finding mine on the cold wood of the step. “It’s different now, Mom.” “It is,” I said. “It is quiet.” We sat together without speaking as the…