She stood at the front door with the familiar holiday wreath. It had been five years. What to do? Knock? Ring? She turned the knob. The hallway was full of scarves, coats, boots; hanging on hooks, strewn across the floor. She stepped over them. At the dining room, she slumped against the door frame. Her mother was the first to notice. “Lily?” “Hey,” Lily said through a curtain of tears. Home. She finally made it home.