FEELS LIKE HOME

"It feels like home to me,
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from
It feels like home to me
It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong"

Kate Beckett was cooking – more precisely reheating some Chinese take-out – when her doorbell unexpectedly rang. It was 8:00 PM and she was not waiting for anyone. Who was it? Castle? No, he would have called before showing up. This kind of calls he made about twice a week, saying that he had just "cracked the case wide open" – which was rarely true. She put her plate into the microwave and left the kitchen. She unlocked the door, still wondering who had decided to pay a visit on that normal Monday evening.

"Dad?" she said, apparently surprised to see Jim. "What are you doing here? Is there something wrong?" She sounded worried.

"Absolutely not. Since when do I need a reason to come and visit my daughter?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I just… I wasn't expecting you. I'm sorry I don't have much to offer you; you'll probably still be hungry when you leave. Do you want me to order some…? "

"Katie, stop. I didn't come here to eat", he interrupted her.

"Then… What for? I mean, don't get me wrong dad, I'm happy to have you here. I just wonder why you didn't call instead of coming. Because you know, just in case you haven't noticed, it's snowing like hell outside!"

"Because I have something to give you". He sounded very serious.

One hundred questions were crossing the young woman's mind. What was so important? He had driven from his place to hers – and he did not even live close to her district – in the snow, to give her something, he must have needed a good reason for it. Couldn't it wait some more days?

"Oh, well, okay. Come in, let's sit. Aren't you cold? Do you want to drink something?" she asked.

It was as if she wanted to avoid the conversation her father wanted to have, because even if she was still hoping for the contrary, she was almost sure he had come to talk about her mother.

"Give me a glass of water, please". He wasn't thirsty but it seemed his daughter wouldn't sit and listen unless he accepted something from her.

Kate went back to the kitchen, took her plate out of the microwave and brought it to the living-room with the glass for Jim. She sat on the sofa, next to her father who was staring at her.
He was holding something in his right hand, behind his back. When he gave it to Kate, his hand was shaking. It was a wooden box with girly stickers on it. And, in the middle of the lid, there was a beautiful black and white picture of Kate and Johanna.

The young woman took it carefully, as if it was something fragile. She fixed her gaze on the picture for a while and began to be lost in her thoughts. Her father took her hand and asked:

"Do you remember?"
There was something in his voice, something she could not explain. He always had this tone when he was speaking about his wife, as if he was hesitating to talk, as if the words could not get out of his mouth.

Kate squeezed his hand. "Of course I do."

It could have looked like a simple wooden box with a photograph on it to anyone. But it was much more than this.

"Where did you find it, dad? I remember when Mom died, I'd been looking for it for months and I never found it".

"I've tidied up the house, like I never did! And I found it in the very old toybox you had when you were a kid. I'm sorry; I know it comes a little out of the blue, but I thought you would want it back. It could have waited, I know. I just wanted you to have it. I hesitated, because I know you Katie, I know every time it comes to your mother, memories are more painful than peaceful but…"

"Don't worry Dad. Thank you. I'm glad you gave it back to me."

A moment of silence invaded the room, and Kate broke it.

"Let's open it together", she said.

"Thank God you didn't put a padlock on it", Jim said with a smile.

Kate laughed a small laugh, opened the box softly, and displayed all the stuff which was stocked in it on the table right in front of them. There were many, many things. Jim said:

"You'll have to explain a few things to me… Like, why did you collect all of this?"

Kate smiled. "You want to know everything?"

"Yes, I do" he answered, definitely willing to know why there were leaves, shells, pictures and sheets of papers gathered in the same box.

She first took a bunch of leaves and explained: "Do you remember how much I loved autumn? Mom and I used to walk in the park on Sundays when the leaves started to fall from the trees. I loved the orange-colored leaves, she preferred the brown ones. We would walk for hours, collecting the most beautiful leaves we found. And then, we decided we should have something for each season". She grabbed the picture of a snowman on the table and handed it to her father. "So, this is what we did for winter. Our snowman's name was Pip, but I can't remember why".

"What about summer and spring?" Jim asked.

"For spring, we used to pick up flowers, but we made an exception, we didn't keep them in the box. I remember Mom telling me that flowers were meant to be seen in the middle of a table. So we made bunches of daisies, daffodils, and all the flowers we would find".

"Now that you mention it, I do remember this! The yellow bunches on the table every Sunday night when you two were back from your walk in the park. I never knew why, though."

"Better late than never", answered Kate.

"Yeah, you're right". Jim took a shell on the table. "So, if I guess it correctly, this is what embodies summer?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. Do you remember when we went to Florida for the holidays? I took all the shells I could find on the beach to bring them back. It is said that you can hear the sea when you put it to your ears. I wanted to hear the sound of the waves; I thought it would help me to fall asleep. Mom helped me to sort them, because if it wasn't for her, I would have probably brought back all the shells of that beach".

They both laughed. "Yeah, you were the kind of girl to keep every single thing"
"Was I?" Kate asked ironically, looking at the table full of her different collections.

She grabbed a ticket and said "Oh my god, this is the ticket from the zoo! Mom and you drove me there for my 7th birthday". She was as excited as a seven-year-old kid.

"Yeah, I remember" Jim said "You loved the giraffes but you were afraid of the monkeys".

"Stop dad, that's not funny, I thought they were going to bite me. I was seven, okay?"

Jim grinned.

They did this for another hour. They found movie tickets, price tags of Kate's favorite clothes, stickers. Kate was so glad to share all those memories with her father.

There were also several birthday cards addressed to the little girl. Kate opened one of them and read it out loud: "Happy birthday, sweetie. Don't grow up too quickly. I love you. Mom"

She tried her best to contain her tears but she could not. Jim hugged her tight in his arms.

"I'm okay, Dad. I'm fine. I'm not a little girl anymore; I'm no longer seven, I… "

"Sssh", he whispered. "There is no limited age to cry, no limited age to be sad. No limited age to miss someone. Look at me, I'm almost 60 and I still cry, sometimes"

"I just miss her so much"

"I know, sweetie. We both do"

They hugged silently for five minutes, and Kate murmured

"Thank you Dad. It's been twelve years since the only picture of Mom I've had has been her body in that back alley. Thanks to my wooden box, thanks to my shells, my leaves, and mainly thanks to you, I'm able to see her again as she was with us :as a loving and caring mother, not as a victim of murder. You have no idea how important it is to me. Thanks, Dad".

He smiled at her.

"Can I keep the box?" she asked

"Of course Katie, it's yours."

She lay on the sofa, lodging her head on Jim's lap.

"I love you Dad", she murmured.

"I know. I love you too".