ME

104

The Road Home

I jumped into my black Jaguar and put my briefcase on the passenger seat. It was gigantic, yet could barely hold everything that I had stuffed in it. I closed the car door, started the engine, shifted into reverse, and put my foot on the pedal. The car lurched backward and my ID badge slid partially out of a pocket of the briefcase. The letters CEO were now visible. I stuffed it back in, and started home.

As I turned from the parking lot onto the road, I casually glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw a brown brick building. My empire, and I was its empress. The road home was very long, a three-hour drive on a good day, and nastily exhausting. I had wanted to move closer, but the houses near here are but houses, very small, and not fit to be my castle. I was now passing a middle-class neighborhood that wasn’t too shabby, and found myself getting wound up. I looked at the clock: 7:09. It was starting to get late. I was moving very slowly behind a van that refused to move faster no matter how many times I honked, and the road was bumpy from being overused.

I rounded a bend and found myself looking at the sunset. The road was bathed in a golden glow, and I felt peace wash over me. The ride became as smooth as silk, and the noises became muffled. I wasn’t paying attention, though, for my eyes were glued to the sunset, an amazing sight. The rays were fingers, beckoning me to play with them, and deep down in my heart, I knew I wanted to.

The next moment I found that the car was slowly turning onto my driveway. My son continued playing on our basketball court, with not so much as a glance at his mother. I got out of the car, scooped him up, and, for the first time in years, hugged my little prince.