Hey reader, So, I wrote this for myself, not expecting anyone else would ever read it. I needed it, so I wrote it. When I was done I figured maybe someone else might need it, too, so here it is. Hopefully, it'll sit with you in dark places, wrap its arms around you, and ultimately show you the goodness that exists in all of us. The beginning might feel heavy or boring, but please hang in there because just like life - the good stuff comes out of the dark stuff.

hiraeth (n)

a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return

a home which maybe never was

the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief

for the lost places of your past

As the train rattled along the countryside, dusk turning to darkness, Grace rested her head against the cool, hard window. The truth was that Grace didn't feel strong enough to do this. Outside of the unsettling tightness in her chest that every so often made its way up into a lump in her throat, she didn't feel much of anything.

Her brain was exhausted from running through scenarios in her mind that didn't end with her getting off at the next stop. She imagined herself pulling up straight and tall, sauntering back to purchase her return ticket. A mix-up. A mistake. Just a quirky day trip. This wasn't actually her plan after all. She and the ticketing agent would chuckle politely and she'd be on her way back to the city. But somehow, despite the draw and ease of it, she couldn't bring herself to buy into a scenario that took her back. She would not go back.

A woman sitting across the aisle thumbed through a magazine with an air of ennui. Despite the hours they'd been on the train, she looked immaculately put together with dark shining waves of perfection framing her freshly powdered face. Her sleek jumpsuit made her look slightly out of place, and Grace wondered what a woman like her was doing on a train like this. Impatiently, the woman stuffed her magazine back into her bag and pulled out her laptop, eager to indulge the escape into her work. Grace had always thought that this was the woman she would become. It was definitely the woman everyone else expected her to become. But here she was, running away. She would not become that woman, the one everyone expected her to be.

Before she left, Grace did three things. First, she resigned from her dream job at the biggest marketing firm in the city. Second, she sold almost everything she owned: the big things like her car and her townhome and all its furniture and then of course, all of the little things, things she had accumulated over the years, clothes, shoes, stuff that had ingrained itself into her life over the years - stuff that was suffocating her more than it was bringing her comfort or joy. And finally, she vowed to herself that she would rid herself of the broken, predictable life she had somehow fallen into and in its place, she would create a new life, one that truly fed her wanting soul.

Grace could feel the pull of the deceleration as the train approached a small, barely lit train station. Taking a shaky deep breath, she gathered her bag and the one trunk that she had reduced her life into and stood. Trembling, she made her way off the train, her heart pounding, her mind shrieking for her to stop. Every ounce of her being doubted this choice. The scary voices in her head threatened her with an array of frightening consequences. But, she kept going, fueled by something she faintly recognized as her own fleeting desire to extend grace to herself in the form of this new life.

The station was deserted, which suited her just fine. She knew where she was. Her feet firmly planted on stable ground, it all rushed back to her. Skipping stones into the river, hide and go seek in the barn. Grandad would never find her when she hid just behind the hay bales, at least he pretended not to find her, which made it all the more thrilling. Her childhood memories were filled with summers spent sucking sweet watermelon and toasting perfect marshmallows here. After a long season of feeling lost, she finally knew where she was.

The walk to the farmhouse never felt long as a child fueled with the anticipation of a summer in Stardew Valley. Tonight though, the air was thick and dark and the walk presented itself as daunting at best, dangerous at worst. The dark dirt path was lined with towering trees. In the dead of night, the occasional rustling behind the trees provoked Grace's imagination. She immediately cursed herself for not thinking this through. Single female murdered in the middle of the night...in the middle of nowhere... Would that even be a headline? Maybe no one would ever even know. The rumbling sound of her trunk on the pebbled dirt path was unnerving, like an invitation for a serial killer to hop right out and snatch her. Lighting lit the sky and Grace picked up her pace.

A cool breeze rushed her face, bringing with it the taste of the ocean and the musky scent of the nearby woods. Grace closed her eyes and inhaled, escaping into the moment. A slight drop of rain fell to her face and she felt it as though it had landed in slow motion: soft, cool, wet, laced with possibility. Thunder cracked in the silence of the night inviting the rain to fall harder. Grace could do nothing but keep walking. As she walked, she relished the sensation of the cool spring rain washing her clean of all she longed to be rid of.

After some time, an old familiar white fence came into view. Grace exhaled deeply with relief. Soaking wet and worn thin, she practically ran the last 100 feet. Seeking cover under the veranda, she caught her breath and rummaged for the key in her bag.

The house was dark and the floorboards creaked as Grace stepped into the farmhouse. There in the pitch black, Grace was taken back by the familiar scent of the home where she'd spent her childhood summers. It has been over 10 years since she had stepped foot inside this place and she felt embraced by it as if not a single moment had passed.

Feeling to the side of the door, she located the light switch and flicked it up. Nothing. DAMN. Grace had had the forethought to call the utility company and reconnect the power and gas. The electricity must have gotten knocked out by the storm. She felt her way to the kitchen and into the drawer, where all these years later, the matches and candles remained. Grace struck a match, lit a candle, and found a small saucer to place it on. Carefully balancing the saucer in her hand, she held out the candle to illuminate the room.

She felt pulled back in time, imagining her grandad's last days, which now she realized were quite humble and lonely. A small bare bed sat in the middle of the family room where she remembered cuddling up under blankets on the sofa to read stories before bed. She imagined at some point, the stairs to the large bedroom became too much for him, hence the bed in the living room. Her heart ached as the story unfolded before her, filled with regret that she and her family were not there for him in those final months. They had not even known he was ill.

Lugging her trunk in one hand, while balancing the candle in the other, Grace made her way into the washroom, stripped off her soaking clothes, and stood bare on the cold tile floor. Her body was weary. It had been engaged in constant battle these past few months, a battle in which it constantly fought for self-protection. Grace turned the knob on the shower and was as grateful as she'd ever been to see running water. She stepped in and allowed the hot water to pour down on her, soothing her weary body, comforting her aching soul. Dimly lit just by the solitary candle precariously balanced on the sink, the small bathroom filled with thick, comforting steam. The long day and all its complicated thoughts lofted through Grace's mind until her thinking became as dense and foggy as the bathroom itself. With a blank mind, she reluctantly shut off the water and reached for her towel. She slowly dried herself off and pulled on an old t-shirt and her favorite pajama pants.

In the linen closet, crisply folded sheet sets lined the shelves. Grace ran her fingers along the stacks. They felt cool to the touch, perfectly preserved in time. Grace selected a set and by the time Grace finished making the bed with fresh sheets, it was nearly midnight.

The small bed creaked as she crawled beneath the covers, allowing her head to sink softly into the pillow. She longed for the deep sleep that evaded her these days. She longed for a night in which she didn't wake up panicked, sweating, fearful of the whirling darkness marred with the echos of his slithering slick, vile commands, the crack of her ribs breaking, the thump of her body hitting the ground. Maybe it was from exhaustion. Maybe it was because she finally knew where she was. Maybe she finally felt safe. Whatever the reason, the distance or the weight of the day, in the midst of a safe familiarity that soothed her aching soul, that deep sleep finally came.

I am homesick for a

place I am not sure

even exists. One where

my heart is full. My

body loved. And my

soul understood

- Melissa Cox

LISTEN TO THIS:

OVERTURE III / AWAKE

SLEEPING AT LAST

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hey! I've never done anything like this and boy, it is not for the faint of heart, so thanks for being here.

Most of my chapters have a song that I was likely listening to on repeat while editing - or one I think just goes with the vibe and storyline. Take a listen if you'd like. Here's a link to it on Spotify. I'll update the playlist as I release chapters (which are all completed by the way).

playlist/2oW9H4qbHiPttX0As8hiF4?si=qZkV_ROaSjqDGCgGcDeiaw

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoy the story.