"Goodbye, Mom. You're ready, just let go. Goodbye." The last word was more of a whisper, but the soft, trusting voice faded to an even quieter pitch as I closed my eyes all the way.
I felt myself slipping, sliding through a veil of mist, going somewhere, but I trusted the voice, and let myself go. As I went, I could feel the mist solidifying and disappearing, turning into material and things I could truly feel. I finally opened my worn eyes and was greeted with the sight of a large, white house with green trim, oddly familiar yet I could not place it. I took a hesitant breath, and with a great joy filling my heart, I realized I could breathe easily again, as I had not been able to for many years. With a renewed strength in me, I put out a leg and took a step, an easy, unlabored, step! I took another and another. As I came closer to the house, I could feel years slipping away. My vision became clearer, and my joints felt looser, my back no longer ached slightly with each step.
When I had almost reached the house, and was perhaps a mere five yards from the wide, wrap-around porch, the door opened. It pulled in, revealing the hall. The whole thing looked so inviting and calm, I could happily live there forever. As all this registered, something else settled within me. I must be dead, but I felt better than ever. If this was truly death, it was peaceful and wonderful and I was not at all upset by the idea that I was not alive anymore. This way I did not have to suffer the pitying looks from the workers at the home, or the looks from the children and grandchildren that said, "she's losing it." I did not have to miss my husband, he had died a year and a half ago, and I do not think I ever quite got over it.
"Rosie!" A voice called my name, a voice I had not heard in so long. "Rosie," it called again. I had turned around to look at the yard around the house, and as I turned back, I realized my body had stopped changing. I looked down, and saw long blonde hair that fell to past my waist. A young body, only slightly round with good health and it looked just as it had when I was seventeen.
I finally looked up and saw the only person I ever wished to. Emmett. My bare feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they bounded up the steps and across the porch to fling me into his arms. They went around me and caught me up, just as they had so many years ago, when we were young, seventeen and eighteen.
"My Rosie, you're home." His face was buried in my hair and I smiled against his shoulder as he shut the door and pulled us inside.
a/n: do you like it? It was a little idea based off of the book 'elsewhere' by a really amazing author whose name escapes me at the present. Anyway, the general idea came from 'elsewhere' but the rest was just a wild fantasy that came to me today. Review and tell me what you think.
Thanks!