If there was anything or anyone that Rebecca fought to make time for, it was her family. It never mattered what amount of time off she had to request, what assignments she had to shuffle around, how far she had to travel - she'd be there whenever she could, just the same as everyone else tried. Tonight was one such successful night, and if she were being honest, she really needed some time with everyone.
Her part of the dinner is cradled in her arms, ceramic still warm as she carries up it to the door. A hand is freed just enough to push the doorbell a handful of times before she's back to balancing her dish carefully. Eyes wander the door frame, the age that clings to it. A breath and she lets it sink in: she's home.
⸻ °。 @mothaus.













