started returning last spring, I was terrified. I thought you’d remarried. I thought the boys wouldn’t know me.”
Adam steps forward slowly.
“Mom?”
Laura’s knees buckle. Ethan catches her.
“My boys,” she whispers. “My beautiful boys.”
“I didn’t know my own name for years.”
My daughters are crying now too, the youngest reaching tentatively for my hand.
“Dad?” she asks. “You’re really our dad?”
I pull her into my arms. Then the others. Then Laura.
Five sets of arms. Twenty years collapsing into one breath.
“I never stopped hoping,” I tell her. “Even when I told myself I had.”
“I know,” she whispers. “Somehow I always knew you were still waiting.”
“You’re really our dad?”
I don’t sell the house out of grief anymore.
I sell it because we need a bigger one, one with rooms full of laughter instead of silence.
Diane visits sometimes. Laura forgave her before I could.
“Holding on to anger,” Laura tells me one evening, “is just another way of staying lost.”
I look at our family around the dinner table, six faces I thought I’d never see together again.
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