The grass smelled sweet as he made his way to the front door. The handle seemed to vibrate with a warm, welcoming sensation. Turning the handle, he entered to the main hall and hung his coat. He didn’t bother closing the door; the summer breeze that swept through carried the moist scent of the earth through the house.

Ascending the stairs, he lets his hand run across the familiar patterns etched into the mahogany railing. Memories blossomed freely from the engraved stems and leaves. The first day, the first baby, the deportation letter.

Continuing down the corridor, he enters the second bedroom on the left. There she was. Still sleeping with the glow of summer coming through her window. He approached the bed and sat on the edge next to her. Gently, he brushed his hand across her cheek and pushed some stray hairs behind her ear. She stirred and yawned widely. Settling back in, she looked up at him, still coming out of her dream.