Charlie stood facing the door for an eternity, expecting the next step to get easier, but it didn’t. Something welled up in his chest, just above his heart and below his neck. It wasn’t exactly pain and it wasn’t exactly love. Thanks to Dr. Thornton, he realized that it was a longing for days past. Charlie often thought that life before therapy had been easier. He didn’t have to acknowledge all of this touchy feely crap. It’s possible he didn’t even know it existed before that last session broke the vault wide open. Prior to that he could just drink, be an asshole and move on. Sweet simplicity. Now he was forced to deal with all the muck and junk that his new state of “enlightenment” provided.

The door itself was unremarkable. It was a typical wooden door seen in most New England homes built in the early twentieth century. It had that reddish-brown glaze with the cracked and almost scaly varnish. The door knob, still original, made that characteristic squeak when it was turned and popped back into position. Charlie loved these old houses. Solid, reliable and full of character, they were everything he wanted to be.

The door opened and Charlie took a half step past the threshold. Physically he made it in , but his heart clawed at the jamb, pulling him back into the hallway. Last time he was here, he was a different person in what feels like a different universe. It was before the war. Before the scars and all of the anger and resentment and bitterness. Charlie had spent the majority of his adult life wearing a uniform and made it out mostly unscathed. The war that tore him down took place in this very room between his mother, “Rainy” as she was so affectionately called, and cancer.

The room was exactly as he’d remembered it. The bed was still there. The smell of the room inflated long lost memories. Good ones. The smell of spearmint just barely touched his nose. To be exact, it was the smell of spearmint flavored Trident chewing gum. Rainy was never caught without it.

Charlie wondered how that was even possible after a decade. Maybe it wasn’t real and the scent was merely a powerful memory. Either way he was grateful for it. He hadn’t been that close to his mother for a very long time. The fear melted away. His spine straightened and his previously rounded shoulders moved back to their natural position. Charlie felt good.