I entered the house, relieved to find that my parents weren't in the sitting room. I made my way up the stairs, passing their slightly open bedroom door. Peeking inside, I realized they weren't there. Wondering where they could be, I continued to my own room, dropped my bag on the ground, and removed the juice-soaked clothes to put them in the washing machine.
Since the juice had stained the inside of my bag, I took out my books and carried them along with the clothes to the washing machine. First, I loaded the clothes and then went back to my room to change out of my PE clothes. I grabbed my phone and dialed my mom's number, but she didn't answer. So, I decided to call my dad instead, and he picked up.
"Hello, honey. Are you back from school?" he asked. "Yes, I am. Where did you and mom go?" I inquired. "Honey, your mom and I are at your uncle's house. We'll be home very soon," he explained. "Okay, take care," I replied before ending the call. I wondered to myself why they were at my uncle's house, but then reminded myself that it was none of my business. I went to check on the clothes in the washer.
The clothes finished washing, so I moved them to the dryer. I put my bag in the washer and let it wash. I headed to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge. I was craving mac and cheese, and luckily, there was some in the freezer. I took it out and placed it in the microwave. Once it was done, I served it and carried it upstairs to my room.
Meanwhile, at my uncle's house, my father shared, "Emma called. She just returned back from school." Uncle Philip responded, "That's good. When is she coming to visit us? My wife and I have been expecting her, but she hasn't come yet." My father reassured him, "Well, Philip, she just started a new school and she's trying to catch up. I'll be sure to tell her that you are expecting her." My mother chimed in, "Honey, I'm ready to go home now. Clara and I have finished what we were doing." As they descended the stairs, my uncle and his wife bid farewell, offering well wishes for my mother and the baby she was carrying.
During the car ride back, my mother commented, "Clara is such a kind person." My father added, "She is. I pray she conceives a child soon. May our baby grow up to be healthy." He gently placed his hand on my mother's stomach. "Focus on driving, Gerard," my mom reminded him, gently pushing his hand away. "Okay, I will. When are you going to the hospital to check the gender of the baby?" my father asked. "The doctor said to come in next week," my mother replied. "Okay," my father acknowledged as they made their way home.
Back in my room, engrossed in a novel, I heard my parents' car pull into the driveway. I quickly got up and went to the washing machine to retrieve my bag and my clothes from the dryer, taking them to my bathroom. They weren't very wet, but they needed a little drying. As my parents walked in through the front door, my dad called out, "Emma, we're home," before settling on the couch. My mom headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I descended the stairs and approached my father, questioning, "Why did it take you guys so long to come home? If I hadn't called you, you would have still been there." He explained, "Your uncle and I were having a chat. He asked about you and told me to tell you that you should visit sometime." I expressed, "I sure do miss Uncle. How about Clara? How is she doing?" He replied, "Well, she's doing alright and misses you a lot." Curious about my mom's whereabouts, I asked, "Where's Mom?" He replied, "She's in the kitchen." I made my way to the kitchen, finding my mom cutting vegetables. "Mom, let me help you with that," I offered, taking the knife from her. "Oh, sweetie, how are you doing?" she asked as she stepped back to retrieve a pot from the cabinet. "I'm doing alright. How's the baby doing?" I inquired, smiling at her. "The baby is fine. Hope you had a wonderful day at school," she responded. "Well, today wasn't that wonderful, but it's okay. It was still good," I answered, recalling a conversation with Ethan. "That's great to hear," she said.
Minutes later, the food was ready, and we gathered around the dinner table to enjoy our meal.I sat at the dinner table with my parents, eagerly awaiting the delicious meal my mom had prepared. The savory aroma filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation. As we began to eat, my dad took a bite and exclaimed, "Wow, this is absolutely delicious! You've outdone yourself again, honey." My mom blushed and replied, "Thank you, dear. I'm glad you like it. I put a lot of love into cooking this meal." The main course was a perfectly roasted chicken, seasoned with herbs and spices, tender and juicy. The side dishes were just as delightful - creamy mashed potatoes, buttered green beans, and a fresh garden salad with a tangy vinaigrette. The flavors danced on my taste buds, and I couldn't help but express my delight. "Mom, this chicken is amazing! And the mashed potatoes are so creamy!" I exclaimed. She smiled warmly and said, "I'm thrilled that you're enjoying it, sweetheart. It makes all the effort worthwhile." We continued to savor each bite, engaging in pleasant conversation about our day. The meal was not only a feast for our taste buds but also a time for us to bond as a family, sharing stories and laughter. As we finished our plates, my dad leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. "Thank you, love, for this wonderful meal. You truly are an incredible cook," he complimented my mom. She beamed with pride and replied, "It's my pleasure, dear. I'm grateful to have the opportunity to nourish and delight you with my cooking."
After we finished our main course, we cleared our plates and my mom brought out a mouthwatering dessert she had prepared earlier. It was a homemade apple pie, fresh out of the oven, with its golden crust and sweet aroma filling the room. The sight of the warm pie made our mouths water with anticipation.
My dad's eyes lit up as he saw the pie, and he eagerly exclaimed, "Oh, apple pie! You know it's my favorite." My mom chuckled and replied, "I remember, that's why I made it especially for you." She skillfully sliced generous portions of the pie and served it with a dollop of creamy vanilla ice cream on top.
As we took our first bites, the combination of the sweet, cinnamon-infused apples and the flaky, buttery crust was pure bliss. The apples were tender yet still had a slight bite, and the filling was perfectly balanced with just the right amount of sweetness. The crust was light and delicate, adding a delightful contrast of textures.
We savored each bite, the flavors mingling on our tongues and eliciting satisfied sighs of delight. Between mouthfuls, we shared stories and laughter, creating a warm and joyful atmosphere around the table. The dessert was the perfect ending to our delicious meal, bringing a sense of comfort and contentment.
As we finished the last crumbs of the pie, we sat back in our chairs, completely satisfied. I stood up and carried the used plates to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of water and took a refreshing drink. Afterward, I returned to the dinner table and informed my parents that I would be heading to my room.