There he is. Finally. The urge to run overwhelms my small legs as I dash to the door. Still, my mother beats me and has already stepped into his loving embrace. After a good four and a half minutes, my father pulls away and kisses my mother on the cheek before scooping me up in to his muscular arms.
“Hey, small fry.” He pulls my face into his lips and warms my cheek with a fatherly kiss. My arms grab his neck so tight that I nearly choke him. He laughs as he realizes it’d hard for me to let go. These precious moments are what keep my safe. They latch onto my mind and never let go unless forced to leave.
I could never imagine of letting go of one of these precious moments. Now, if only this was the true story.













***
The tear drips down my red cheek. My mind reels with questions with no answers and memories that aren’t real. He’s gone for good. My heart thrums an empty beat as my mother repeats every word over the phone.
“What… I…. some mistake…… sure it’s him…” she stutters. Even though, she never revealed exactly what happened, I always knew this day was going to arrive. Unfortunately, it had to happen on my birthday.
My mother and I awaited the time when we were going to hear the purr of the engine thrum through the driveway. Now, due to this unfortunate event, we never will. I start to sob, letting the reality of the whole situation finally hit me.
My mother hits “end” and walks over to well-stained couch. She strokes my hair, trying to be the brave, superhero “mommy” that I still call her to this day. She holds back tears trying to convince me she still throws on a cape and flies through the night sky when I drift asleep. Her eyes are wet with tears trying to burst through the emotional barrier that she has formed.
I’m still sobbing when the strongest tear finally cracks through the wall of strength. She pours out everything that she has been keeping in for the last few minutes. Both of our cheeks are red and our eyes are filled with pain when we hear someone knock on the door. My mother cracks it open, knowing that she won’t see who she wants to, proving that everything is just a big misunderstanding.
The mailman hands her the stacks of mail with a concerned look.
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
“Yes.. Thank you.” She says with a some-what smile.
She closes the door and stares at the mail.
“John McConnell” and the tears continued to drip away……..