FEEL THE NEED
The lights flickering between the tree trunks led me home. As I trudged closer, the light dwindled to an oil lamp glowing in the window of a stout house. A smile tugged at my lips at the sight of the rugged roof. I’d been meaning to replace the threshes but had never gotten around to it. The scent of ripe turnips and tomatoes wafted from the garden. The weathered stones that led to the doorway were as comfortable and familiar underfoot as my softest broken-in slippers.
Ah. Home.
The moment I broke free from the tree line, the wooden door slid open, and in anticipation, I slumped against one of the rock pillars that made up the gate. That small smile that had been tugging at my lips now stretched warmly at the sight of my husband awkwardly shuffling into his outside shoes as he ran down the front steps. The shoes flapped, and his kimono sleeves billowed as he raced toward me. He scooped me into a hug, and then finally, finally, I could breathe. He smelled of fish, pepper, and boiled vegetables, and my stomach growled at the scents of dinner clinging to his skin.
“I’ve returned,” I said automatically.
“Welcome home,” he said. “I was so worried. You’re later than usual.”
His palms caressed my face, and he studied my hair, noting it wasn’t the same style that I wore when I left this morning. A handsome smile broke across his aristocratic face and his white teeth gleamed in the cloaked night. “Don’t tell me you’re late because of a hair appointment?”
I rolled my eyes, but despite his teasing, I swept my hands through his soft hair, caressed his brown and unblemished skin, and kissed him with all the love I contained within me. In that moment, I remembered why I made the journey back and forth to the village every day. I remembered why I faced demons every day. Sometimes it was hard, and sometimes I wanted to give in, but the fight was always worth it.
“You okay?” He asked softly.
“It’s been a long day,” I sighed out. I didn’t think I had the energy to explain everything right now, and I was grateful when he understood that without explanation. He simply held me and allowed me a moment where I didn’t have to expend any energy.
“Mommy!” Twin shouts greeted me. Two six-year-old girls sprinted out of the open door of the house, their bare feet running heedlessly through the dirt. My husband winced, no doubt thinking of the dirty footprints he would have to clean up later, but I glared at the girls for a far more important reason.
“What have I told you?” I demanded. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but it was so easy for fear and panic to churn up into anger. The girls cringed at the tone of my voice, eyes widening and reaching for each other’s hands.
“To never step outside the house at night,” the oldest, by a handful of minutes, said in a chastised whisper. Her hair was done up in two afro puffs. The youngest balanced one large puff at the top of her head, tied off with a bright pink bow that pouted after a rough day.
The youngest said, scared, “You always come home before the sun sets. We thought . . . What if the demons got you?”
I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose and forced myself to calm down. The transition was hard sometimes—going from fighting the world and everything in it to being the mother that these girls needed. So often, when I came home, I was too tired for patience, and even when I pushed myself to make the effort, I found it difficult to convey the right words. Why was slaying demons far easier than dealing with children? The pressure of the moment jumbled everything that I wanted to say.
“Your mother is right,” Hubby said, effortlessly taking over. He crouched down to the twins’ level and placed a hand onto both of their cheeks. His nails were still stained by ink when he used to work in the factory to support us during the pregnancy. “You know the rules. We can’t let fear keep us from being safe. I know you were scared, but next time, we will be more careful, right?”
The twins nodded.
Despite my concerns for their safety, I had to remember that this was the first time I had arrived home so late. Of course, they were worried. Of course, they were scared. And in the midst of all that, of course, they forgot the rules. Those rules would be the difference between life and death someday, but for now, mommy was home.
“Come here,” I said softly and motioned them forward.
The twins and my husband all gathered in my arms, and they softened me. I wish I knew better how to comfort them. I struggled sometimes since I wasn’t always here to watch them grow up. I wondered if one day they’d understand that even though I’m not always present, I wished that I could be. That I’m trying my hardest, but sometimes momma ain’t perfect.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I said. “I was scared, too. But no matter how scared I am, I’ll always make it back home to you. I promise, on my honor.”
“I know, mommy,” the oldest said fiercely, after wiping their nose and sniffling on my kimono. “Because you’re a samurai.”
“The baddest,” I confessed.
Over their heads, Hubby winked at me, and then he patted the girls on their backs. “Come on. Your momma is tired after a long day, and dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you two set the table?”
“Okay!” The girls chimed and then raced through that one persistent muddy patch by the koi pond, before stampeding back into the house. I stood there for a moment, staring after them, wondering how in the world I had made something so beautiful and yet insanely chaotic and messy.
“Ready to go inside?”
“I need to renew the protection talismans,” I said, knowing I couldn’t truly rest until that task was done. “It can’t wait any longer.”
The talismans hung on the primary entrances of the property—the door of the outhouse, the front door of the house, and affixed to the fence gate. Over the years, I found that tripling the protections provided valuable fail safes if one of the talismans proved faulty.
“Alright.” Hubby kissed me on the forehead. Then, he reached into his apron pocket and revealed a pair of wire-framed glasses. “And look what I found. You left them on the table this morning.”
“What do I need them for? I’m home now.” I plucked the glasses from his hand and dutifully tucked them into my obi. He smiled at me the entire time, finding it all very funny since he had worn glasses since he was a kid. Ha hah. There was nothing amusing about getting old. And yet, despite it all . . . Forty years was a blessing.
My husband pulled me toward him by the lapels of my haori. “How about I draw you up a steaming bath after dinner? You look like you’ve had a rough day.”
“A massage would be nice, too.”
“Anything for you, my sexy samurai,” he said, and we grinned at the reference to a cherished in-joke from the beginning of our relationship. Then he kissed me again, undaunted by the dried blood or the smell of the outside clinging to my skin. I took a moment to savor the softness of his lips and the warm hearth he stoked in my chest. Every touch still felt as exciting and illicit as when we began our forbidden romance. He unabashedly cupped my backside, and I rued the demons and any other mothafuckers who dared to try and separate us.
“I love you always, my darling daimyo.”