A Returning

Sitting in the corner of a large, old, worn-out kitchen floor was a small girl. She was intently staring across the room at the kitchen door knob, waiting for the creak when it would turn. The girl, when she spent these times in her corner, become dis joined from the world around her and was consumed with another world that only she went to, in this corner.
The expression on the young child's face was one of apprehension and innocence, yet the child's eyes held a disturbing amount of concern for one of only age six. The concern in her eyes turned to a dangerous bitterness as she caught a tear sliding down her cheek, with the back of a small chubby hand. Her other hand then raked her dark brown bangs away from her furrowed brow, then fell down to her mouth as she then sucked on her thumb. The girl squinted her hazed almond-shaped eyes and tried not dwell on the thoughts that always invaded her mind while in the corner.
Her mind began the battle with itself as it did every time she waited in the corner. Did she want her father to return to her, despite her resentment and fears? Or would she even care if never again was she to see his face through the stained glass of the kitchen door? At these thoughts, her heart felt strangely heavy, as if being weighed down with a rock. Tears sprung to her eyes again, and she was angry at herself for giving in to how she felt. And even more angry because she now knew that even against every fiber of her being, the verity of the matter was that she did long for the return of her anticipated, and his presence did matter in her life.
The girl gathered her blanket close to her face. The familiar smell always calmed her soul. She ran her tiny fingers over the blue and yellow checks on her blanket. She pulled her knees tightly against her chest and fastened her arms around them.
The girl drew her head upward at the first sound of heavy footsteps on the brick pathway outside.