I’m going home
Her 5-year-old son was angry at her again. He wouldn’t pick up his toys from the living room. She put his favorite action figure in time-out as punishment. She watched from the kitchen window as her only child stomped into the yard, yelling that he was running away. He looked back at the window to see what effect his threat had on her. She raised the window, waved at him, and told him to have a good trip. Oh, and they were having pizza for supper. The boy’s eyes widened and he quickly suppressed the smile threatening to escape his face. Resuming his frown, he sat in the grass, chin lowered onto his clenched fists. When he came back into the house a few minutes later, he told her he was sorry. She hugged him tight and said, “It’s alright. You came home.”
Her 16-year-old son ran down the stairs. His friends had just driven up. She didn’t particularly like them; they were older and got into situations she considered worrisome. He yelled that he was going out just before the front door slammed. The sound of squealing tires made her flinch. Once again, she wished that her son’s father was around, but she knew dwelling on that was useless. Later, she went to bed, but didn’t sleep. She heard the front door creak open at 2:36 a.m. and the soft footsteps of her son going to his room. She rolled over and murmured to herself as her eyes closed: “It’s all right. You came home.”
She watched her 24-yearold son striding down the airport concourse. He would be home for a few weeks after being in Afghanistan for a 10-month tour of duty. She remembered when he told her he wanted to serve. She had said she was proud of him and to be careful. She wouldn’t tell him of the sleepless nights spent worrying, or how upset she became at the news reports of American soldiers killed near his area of deployment. As they embraced, she whispered, “It’s all right. You came home.”
She woke to find her 56-year-old son looking down at her. She saw the tears in his eyes. She could hear his wife and kids, her grandchildren, in the other room. She knew why he was sad; there wasn’t much time left. She was sad as well, but still she smiled and held his hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m going home.”
— Devin Houston is the president/CEO of Houston Enzymes. Send comments or questions to devin.houston@gmail.com. The opinions expressed are those of the author.