Talia couldn’t get enough of life, or food, or Bowie. It was as if she’d starved not only her body but her soul during the time they’d been apart. She was discovering the joy in the world all over again.
Bowie said she was regaining her sass. It was all as they’d first planned it to be, just a few years late. She still couldn’t believe it sometimes and spent long hours late at night watching him sleep.
She’d bought another car with the insurance money from the one that was wrecked, and ventured out in the mornings to a neighborhood supermarket to shop for groceries after Bowie left for work.
On weekends they house hunted, and made love again and again, and in the third month of their residence in the apartment, they finally found what Talia knew right away was The House.
*
It might have been all the black wrought-iron fencing around the small courtyard in front.
It could have been the lush, green landscaping with jasmine blooming at the gates and bougainvillea spilling from the limbs of a massive oak in the tiny front yard, and wisteria hanging from the eaves at the back of the house.
It was most likely the ancient two-story red brick house itself, with its black shutters and black trim, on the quiet little street in the neat little neighborhood.
But it was for sure the feeling of home as the Realtor unlocked the door and they stepped inside for the very first time.
“Oh, Bowie! This is it,” Talia said.
He laughed. “We haven’t seen anything but the living room,” he said.
“It won’t matter what the rest of it looks like. We can fix what needs fixing, but you can’t fix the feeling, and it feels like home.”
“Then we better do this right,” Bowie said, and took her by the hand and pulled her back out onto the porch.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m carrying you across the threshold,” he said, as he gave her a quick kiss and swooped her up into his arms.
The Realtor was smiling and gladly held the door open as Bowie carried her back into the house.
“Welcome home, my love.”
Talia smiled as Bowie set her back on her feet, and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something swoop in the door from outside.
It was a robin. Once again, her messenger.
“Oh, look, Bowie!”
The Realtor frowned, watching the red-breasted bird fly up to the newel post of the stairway, then to the mantel of the fireplace before it lit in a patch of sunshine on the shining hardwood floors.
“I guess it came in while I was holding the door,” the Realtor said. “If we’re lucky, it will go out the same way.”
“It’s a sign. That’s our blessing, Bowie. This is it. This is home!” Talia said, and then ran to open the door.
She swung it wide and then stood back as the robin took to the air and flew back out into the light.
Bowie walked up behind her and kissed her just below her ear.
“Even though the robin has spoken, we may as well look at the rest of the place while we’re here, okay?”
Talia laughed as she took his hand.
“Yes, we may as well.”
*