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That’s how I preferred it. All the greetings and hugs were too much sometimes.
    I spotted Blake and Gabe and made my way over to them.
    “Karl, how’s it going man?” Blake asked.
    “Well, since I last saw you a couple hours ago? It’s been good.”
    Gabe laughed. “So we going out after this?” he asked.
    “Yeah, I’m up for it,” I said.
    Gabe looked past me and smiled, “Magpie!”
    I turned to see Maggie walking toward us. Gabe leaned down and picked her up and swatted her butt before kissing her cheek. “How have you been girl? I missed you at work this week.”
    “I’m good. I’ve missed you, too. But when I’m told to take my vacation time before Christmas, who am I to disagree?”
    Toby walked up behind her and nodded to both Gabe and Blake.
    “Hey Blake,” Maggie said after Gabe set her down.
    “Hey yourself,” Blake said with a flirtatious grin. He always did that. I used to be that way. Then I decided I wasn’t that person. That wasn’t the human being I needed to be.
    I left them to reunite. There weren’t many people there. Many of them were other artists. Then I saw someone I hadn’t seen in years.
    “Emmet McNett—how are you doing man? How’s Conall?” I asked.
    “Karl? Man, you’ve grown up,” he said while pulling me in for a hug. “I’m good. Conall’s good. He’d love to see you, man.” He let go of me and kept his hands on my shoulders as he examined me. His eyes stopped on every one of the small scars across my forehead and upper cheek. None of them were deep, but they left their own marks. Those people that knew me before noticed them.
    The new people I meet see them as part of my face. They were always there as long as they knew me so they didn’t stand out. But, those that knew me before—they were like a flashing sign directing them to thoughts occupied by the questions of what happened and what I did.
    “You look good man,” he said in a quiet tone as if he were questioning why he said it.
    I knew I didn’t look good. But inside, I was good for the first time since returning. I remembered myself.
    “Well, tell Conall to get in touch with me. I’m always at the gallery or down at Henley’s,” I said.
    “Okay, I will.” He gave me a nod. I was getting a lot of those tonight. A woman stepped up to him. She was older and had salt and pepper hair that draped to her waist. She reminded me of my aunt.
    “My name’s Petra,” she said. “Hello, Emmet.” She gave him a smile. “What do we call you?” she asked me.
    I laughed. “My name’s Karl.”
    “I’ve not met you before.”
    “No, I came back last year, and I’ve been around. I just haven’t come to functions like this often.”
    “Came back?” she asked.
    “Yes, I came home July last year, and I moved back home,” I said.
    She smiled at me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Well, welcome to the family.”
    I didn’t understand what she meant by that, but it felt good to hear it. I knew many of the people from the Böhme, though not well, but to refer to them as family felt right.
    I spoke with them for a while longer before taking a seat on the couch. I sat in my silence, looking at Wynn’s photos that still decorated his wall. There was an awesome shot of Hannah sitting in a windowsill, with sunlight streaming in. You could see how beautiful Wynn found her in that photo alone. But, the photo that held my interest was of Hannah and Maggie. It looked as though it was from Hannah and Wynn’s wedding.
    Hannah and Maggie sat on a porch swing. Hannah’s hair held flowers in it, and Maggie’s was pulled to the side. She wore one small sunflower above her ear. Maggie’s head rested on Hannah’s shoulder and Hannah rested her head on Maggie’s.
    Through the quietness of the photo, I could feel the wind that blew through their hair. I closed my eyes and imagined what that felt like—sitting there on that sun-drenched porch, smelling the air of the outdoors.
    The scent of the wind calmed