A Come Back

I'm back home. The smell is the same, but they've changed the sofa with a green cover that I used to see every day since I was four. Our home always has its specific smell. It’s a mix of freshness, care, and drama. The little statues of men on the wall of the entrance hall seem older. They always were white, so I can’t say anything about their hair. I used to get a little scared of them when I was a kid. They look straight into your soul, so you can never run away.

My grandparents' library covers the whole wall in the living room, as it always has. There are a bunch of books in various languages with colorful covers. I used to exercise my mind by remembering the correct sequence of colors. My mom just added a new bookshelf with my favorite authors, increasing the number of yellow ones because of my love for collecting all my favorite novels from the same series.

It's already 8 PM, but sunlight is still filling the house. On the walls, I can recognize my shadow. I’m starting to play with it. It seems childish. As a kid, I used to know when to stop reading by the sunlight slowly leaving our home. So did I. I just slowly left my home to find myself. I did it and came back—to the roots, to the place with orange walls and big armchairs I used to sleep in during the afternoons. I woke up to the sounds of the kitchen and found my mom setting the table for dinner, with fresh vegetables, meat, and anything I like. At that moment, I feel life inside me the most, being covered with care and love.

A little table in the kitchen always made me want to sit around and smoke, even though my family were non-smokers. And now, here I am, making coffee for myself in the empty kitchen of the empty house, to provide myself with company to have a cigarette.

About the author

Tamara Mkhitaryan

Tamara, a human named after the famous Queen Tamar, is a very powerful person. She always strives to be independent and free, both in life and in art. She loves to love and create anything that will make people think more deeply.