Codename: W.E.I.R.D.

Operation(1): H.O.M.E.C.O.M.I.N.G.

Operation(1): H.O.M.E.C.O.M.I.N.G.

Rachel Clark

My stomach erupted into tingles with excitement barely containable, as the flight began its descent and within seconds, taxied on the runway to come to a halt. Every fibre in my being came alive as nostalgia rushed in, like water through a broken dam, as this knowledge settled in.

Home. The one word sounded so sweet in my mind, it took all my limited patience not to scream it out to the world.

Therefore, understandably, I unlocked the seatbelt and shot up from my seat in record time to face my father who was mimicking my movements albeit in slow motion.

"Oh, c'mon Dad! Either you've seriously aged or you're going sloth-slow just to rile me up," I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air for emphasis.

He merely chuckled and proceeded to retain our handbags from the overhead compartments. He handed mine over then mussed up my hair, grinning. "Always so impatient, Rage."

"That's just the way I roll."

★★★

The General Mitchell International Airport, Milwaukee, Wisconsin was as alive with the hustle of the travelling population as I had known it two years ago while leaving to reside in Jacksonville. Life in Florida was every bit the dream one would imagine it to be. Some days were spent lazing around under the sun, ogling the hot guys strolling the beach in all their half-naked glory, while other days time flew by in between the various activities the locals of a beach town indulge in.

A piece of my heart though remained in my hometown reveling in the memories gleaned through the fifteen years I had spent here, while my mind and body were invested to function in real time Florida. It was indescribable; the feeling of regaining that lost piece and have my heart beat wholesome again.

Navigating through the airport, I kept my eyes peeled for familiar faces. My peripheral vision caught a head of thick cascading curls, the kind of blinding gold I had ever only seen one person show off. Jacqueline Sandford.

Her blue eyes sparkled, I could tell even from a distance, as an award-winning smile lit up her stunning features when her eyes found me. She looked chic as ever in an elegant navy blue sheath dress, with a Gucci handbag hanging off her arm. Jacqueline Sandford was a picture of poise and grace, anytime and everywhere.

"I'd have to say," she began once we reached within hearing distance. "The sun suits you quite well, Rach." She ran an appreciative gaze from my head to toe, but then scrunched up her nose when she noticed my attire of plain white shorts and sleeveless checkered shirt. "Though, I can see, your fashion sense hasn't upgraded much. Oh, how you need me, you little girl. Just tell me how much you missed me already!"

Her thin pale arms wrapped around me in a bone-crushing hug that made me wonder at her hidden strength.

"Not one bit, Jackie. Though now that I'm here, I'll definitely miss my comfortable clothing. It's the end of an era," I teased, sniffing for added effect.

Jackie pulled back a bit to glare me in the eye. "The fashion editor of Vogue, trendsetter Jacqueline Sandford can't have her teenage cousin parading the town in rags now, can she? You have so much to learn, child. One day," I watched her index finger waving in my face while she attempted to make a point that was lost on me, "one day, you'll be so grateful to me. You'll see."

I burst out laughing at her antics. "You're the same old, Jackie. I missed you so much."

"And didn't you miss your dear Aunt Sarah at all? Come give me a hug, sweetie."